


The Soldier Treatment

by LornaHarrisonStan, SebastianHarkenMoran



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America AU, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Eventual Relationships, Everything past TWS? NOT CANON!, Explicit Language, F/M, Fucking throw that out the window lads its OUR canon now, Heads up that we are playing fast and loose with the timeline juSTTTTT A LITTLE, If this is your rodeo with us as writers just know it DOES get angsty and gorey, M/M, Multi, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RP, RP-to-Fanfic, Romance, Smut, Starts in 1940s, Tags May Change, What linear timeline?, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2020-05-28 16:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19398166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LornaHarrisonStan/pseuds/LornaHarrisonStan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebastianHarkenMoran/pseuds/SebastianHarkenMoran
Summary: December 1943:Katherine Lewis, nurse of the 107th, is one of two nurses assigned to accompany the Howling Commando unit through the war. There she meets Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and seals her fate. What does Hydra love more than taking loved ones?---Ever wanted to see Bucky get Soldier-fied with a friend? Wait no more! With our two-for-one deal you can have TWO Winter Soldiers for the price of one + Steve Rogers' tears! Watch our heroes be eaten alive by Hydra and life alike! See them cope with terrible trauma and unresolved feelings! Not sure where it's going yet, but I have a damn good idea it's going to be an interesting ride! This is a fic converted from a RP! The formatting is a little weird but the content will make up for it! (There are paragraphs, don't worry.)





	1. The Start Of A Sad Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 
> 
> A word of warning from us: if you've read our other pieces, you know things get.... a Bit fucked up. This will be no exception. I have tagged what will definitely be in the story, but those tags are susceptible to change, please be aware. This is our first CA fic, so bear with us - we're GOING to get things wrong, but uh, as previously stated in the tags, "OUR CANON NOW." 
> 
> Also know that our updates are infrequent and unpredictable! 
> 
> I'll probably sprinkle in some songs I think match with certain chapters, but it might not be super frequent like the other fics.

Katherine Lewis was not afraid of guns or bombs, but she was afraid of the Nazis that wielded them. And yet, here she was, traveling with the front lines, patching up the wounded and dying with as much zeal as any of the other unflappable young women who had signed up to be nurses. It was grim work. Many of the soldiers themselves didn’t see half of the blood in a month she saw daily - those were the lucky ones. The rest, the ones who were used to the carnage? She knew that they would not leave the front lines the same.

Serving in the 107th had been the usual business, until a good fucking chunk of the regiment had been captured by the enemy. (Oh, and the swearing? She’d never used to swear back home - it had been whipped out of her at an early age, and she’d found it a taboo she didn’t have the guts to break - but here, among the screams of maimed soldiers and the men well enough to hold them down, she’d lost her reservations, and she’d picked up quite a few words she’d never heard before from her colleagues.) After the initial shock of so many men, suddenly gone, there was an air of uncertainty in the camp, punctuated only by the distaste the illustrious Captain America on his touring show had brought. And then he’d disappeared, and the next morning brought back an entire regiment, almost to a man, and everything changed.

She’d packed her things without too much of a fuss, but it was a shame to be leaving behind nearly all the nurses she’d known, and some of the doctors too, especially for _this._ The front lines were nerve-wracking enough, but they were going behind enemy lines - it was only herself, a nurse named Debbie, and a doctor named Herman that were following this group. Unnamed as of yet, but led by Captain Fucking America himself, with his right hand man of a best friend, and peopled with a bunch of rowdy commandos, several of who she whispered with Debbie about while no one else was around.

It was only at the end of the first week with the commandos that she’d successfully learned most of their names, including the Captain’s real one, and that of his best friend (James Barnes was his name, though he had a truly hilarious middle name she couldn’t remember), who many of the girls in the 107th had whispered about - but she’d barely talked to any of the men, mostly talking with Debbie as they drove through the snowy pine forests. They made camp that night - a more permanent camp than the last several, intending on being a base of operations for at least a couple of weeks. Kat received her nightly rations - of somewhat higher quality than she’d come to expect - turned around, and almost walked directly into Sergeant Barnes himself, just barely managing to stop herself from overturning her tin tray and dumping her food onto the dirt ground, not to mention their shoes. “Shit! Sorry!”

He threw his arms up to steady her, a hand finding either shoulder. "Easy, Ms. Lewis. Bad place to lose your dinner."

She startled slightly to find her name coming out of his mouth. She had thought the men hadn't bothered to learn their names, though there were only two of them. "Yeah, no kidding," she said with a chuckle, looking down at her tray. "Don't think Harold would be pleased to give me seconds."

"Let me know if another root tries to capture your ankle's interest, I'll give you some of mine," he offered with a lopsided smile.

She nodded a little, cheeks a bit pink, and thought to herself that the girls back in the 107th had been right - this one was a charming one. "James, right? Barnes? I was in the 107th with you, though we never met there. Was a relief to see your sorry faces come back - a lot of us thought you were gone for good," she said, brows furrowed a little, then she gave a lighter smile. "I got a letter from a friend of mine who's still with them - she says that the month since you fellas got out has done wonders for a lot of the boys. Most everyone made it." 

"Call me Bucky," he said, studying her a bit more closely. "I remember you. A lot of the boys said you were a force of nature in the medical tents." He walked over to brush dirt off a log conveniently sitting by the ration tent and motioned for her to sit with a questioning expression.

She was surprised, at both his words and his invitation, but she sat without hesitation, settling the tray on her lap. "Alright, Bucky it is. And you - call me Kat. Unless I'm stitching you up, then you can call me Miss Lewis," she smirked. "I'm surprised that they're not the ungrateful louts I thought they were - maybe they were just jonesing for a little attention with all their moaning and grousing," she chuckled, and started to tear through her C-Ration with vigor. She would technically be on duty again in an hour - not that she had much to do at the moment. None of the men were injured yet in this brand-spanking-new unit, and so all the supplies were already organized and no one needed tending to. As for being a force of nature - well, she knew that alright. Had she been a man, she would have been a surgeon - but as it was, well. Nurse. 

He nodded as he started in on his own food, examining a green substance that had likely once claimed to be a vegetable, before shrugging and taking a large bite, swallowing quickly. "So what made you take this particular jaunt with us?"

"With this unit in particular? Orders. I imagine Captain Rogers asked for a couple of nurses - maybe the word _best_ was thrown in there, but I couldn't tell you - and here I am. Me and Debbie, and Dr. Herman, who I'm sure the 107th will miss. Brilliant surgeon," she replied, taking a sip of water from her tin mug. "What about you? I heard you and the Captain are close - is that why you're here?" 

He shrugged. "More to keep him out of trouble than anything," he chuckles. "He has vibrant, star-spangled ideals and no sense of self preservation."

She snorted, finishing up which she'd managed to realize halfway through was grits. "And originally? Did you enlist or did Uncle Sam pick you randomly from the group?" The draft. An evil she wish didn't exist, but maybe right now it was necessary. She didn't know.

"Enlisted," he said, eyeing the remaining food on his plate before shrugging and mixing it all together with his spoon, shoveling in another bite.

She picked up her tray, but leaned down to set it at her feet so she could cross her legs, hands laced together in her lap. "Leave behind anybody? Family? A girl? Girls _plural?"_ She asked teasingly, looking at him knowingly. Before he'd been captured, a fair few of the other nurses had chattered about the charm of him, and other things about him. 

"No, nothing behind. Nothing that mattered, anyway," he said with a small smile. He glanced momentarily across the camp as Steve and some of the others came back in from patrol. "What about you?"

"Family - parents, two younger brothers still too young to enlist for the next couple years, thank god. Cousins, uncles, aunts, whatnot. A boy or two who had it in their heads I was gonna marry them, I think. Joke's on them," she snorted, following his gaze for a moment and taking in the tall drink of water that was Captain America before turning back to the tall drink of water that was his best friend. "There was a third, but he let me know in uncertain terms that going off to war wasn't a moral woman's business, so I crossed that one off the list."

He laughed. "When has war ever been the business of the moral? But here we are, doing the _most_ moral thing we can, given the circumstances." He picked up her tray and set it on top of his own.

"Thanks," she said, smiling. "Luckily most of the boys warmed up to us nurses pretty quickly once they learned they needed us over here."

"I desperately hope that was more immediate than you make it sound..." he said, laughing softly.

She snorted, shrugging slightly, though she was still good-humored. "Took a few of the real stubborn ones until active combat to respect us. It's okay. A lot of them were just pleased to see some women around again. Evened out." 

"I'm sure it did," he snorted, shaking his head and standing up. "It's been wonderful talking to you, but unfortunately I need to report. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Ms. Lewis."

"Right back at you, Sergeant Barnes," she smiled, standing as well with a straightening of her uniform, and then held out a hand, still smiling. "I'll take your tray back to the mess if you want. I have a bit before duty calls again." 

He laughed, but hands them both over. "Thank you. My poor sense of time has yanked the rug out from beneath my gallantry. Have an excellent evening."

She took the tray with a laugh and a smile, then jerked her head towards the other side of camp. "Go tell the rest of the boys if I hear shit about this I'm going to be rough next time they get injured. Seeya, Barnes!"

He waved and headed off to report for duty.

* * *

The moon had almost completely set by the time he got back to his tent that night, but the shape sitting outside of it was still instantly recognizable. "Shouldn't you be getting your beauty rest, punk?"

Steve smirked, looking up at the approaching form of his best friend and occasional lover in the dark. He could see Bucky just fine - ever since the serum everything had been sharper. His senses, his reflexes, his mind. That applied to his eyes, too. Where Bucky and his normal eyes probably saw dim shapes, _he_ saw in detail. Not as well as daytime, not by a long shot, but enough. Just another tick on his lab tests. He took the opportunity to eye his friend to his heart's content, without the gaze of any of his men catching him. "Me, sleep? C'mon, jerk, I know you sleep even less than I do. At least play cards with me for a while before you pretend to go to sleep, huh?" 

The truth was, he knew Bucky woke every night with a gasp and a physical jerk, and he could guess as to why. Not that Bucky had said anything himself, but their tents were close, and Steve had good hearing. Another tick. And Steve himself? He needed less sleep these days - Four or five would do just fine and carry him to the next morning refreshed and ready. 

Sometimes he missed it. The sleep. The rest. 

He shifted in his sitting, pulling the deck of cards out of his pocket and holding them up in the moonlight. "Lamp's in the tent." 

"Inviting yourself in, are you?" he scoffed, but he held back the tent flap. "Come on. I've got a flask buried in my stuff somewhere." He ignored the jab about sleep. It wasn't his favorite activity at the moment, and he knew Steve knew it. The contents of the flask were a necessary sedative every once in a while, but it would do for entertaining.

"Yeah, I am - wouldn't have to if you would just do it yourself, but you keep forgetting that," Steve smirked, standing and pushing inside the tent, reaching up to flick on the kerosene lamp he'd hung on tent supports. "And you can keep it for yourself - can't get drunk anymore. Waste of alcohol when we're out here." 

He scoffed. "I keep forgetting. I'm so used to you being a lightweight." He pulled the flask out from his pack near the head of his bedroll and took a swig, before nodding to the cards. "What are we playing?"

"Euchre, like my ma taught us. Only two people, but," he shrugged his uniformed shoulders, his patented crooked smile on. "Dugan told me one of the nurses nearly spilled her supper on your shoes earlier - do I have to go make any stern faces at her tomorrow about awareness of her surroundings?" 

Bucky sat down at the teeny table pushed against the tent wall. "No," he said, taking the deck and counting the jacks before he shuffled. "We had a good talk, actually. Good dame. Dugan needs to clean his nose."

"Good, I'm bad enough with women as it is," the blond snorted, and sat at the tiny table across from Bucky. "A talk, huh? Last I checked that seemed to be the last thing on your list to do with a dame. You hit your thick skull on something?" 

"It's been a while since then," he muttered, starting to dole out cards. "They're in less ready supply nowadays. Nice to just have a conversation. You know. Like you and that Agent Carter."

"Oh, it's like that, is it?" He laughed - quietly - and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest for the moment, if mostly to keep his bulk all in one place on the unfortunately small chair. "I'm a year or two behind you on practice, Buck. And she likes me for me. I thought that was what you were always looking for - wasn't it?" 

He picked up his hand. "I'm happy for you, Steve. Really. I'm just saying that the war changed things a little, and that... Place... Changed them a little more, and it was a nice conversation. Now are we going to play cards or keep gossiping like a couple of matrons?"

He smiled and nodded, knowing when Bucky wanted to change the conversation. "Yeah, we're gonna play cards. Call it, jerk." 

* * *

Two days later, Bucky shoved the deck of cards into his rucksack and closed it, cinching the straps down snugly and strapping in his bed roll. He slung it over his shoulder and exited the tent, which was being left with the main force of commandos. Two groups were heading out on recon. One to a relatively quiet sector, and the other- his and Steve's other- to the... Not so quiet one. 

He walked over to where he could see Steve talking to Byrant, who was heading the other team. Dugan would be in command of those left at the camp. To his surprise, he saw Ms. Lewis standing just off to the side, in full kit. He frowned, and walked over to her. "Ms. Lewis... Will you be accompanying Byrant's team?" He asked, more than a touch uncertain.

She looked up from the orders in her hands, folding the paper to put it in her pocket as she saw Barnes approaching. "Hey, Barnes. No, I'm with Captain Rogers. You too, right? Dr. Herman is with Byrant, Debbie's staying with the camp, and I'm with you. Try not to let me get shot, please?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "Ms. Lewis... I fully believe you should be with the commandos on this endeavor. You're needed. But reconnaissance is a very different thing, and it requires a touch more experience and training. It's no place for someone who hasn't had that training."

Kat gave him a bit of a helpless shrug. "I don't wholeheartedly disagree with you, Sergeant, but orders are orders," she said, picking the folded up paper out of her pocket again and holding it out for him to take and examine. "I think Colonel Phillips and the Captain are trying out something different. If it makes you feel any better, I do know general protocol, and I can handle a gun. A few of them, anyway. Grew up popping bottles out back with my pa like any good farm kid. Not that they've issued me one, don't worry," she added jokingly, an awkward smile on her face. 

Truthfully, she was nervous. Hearing mortars in the distance was different from creeping through the dark forest, _looking_ for Nazis. But like she had said, orders were orders, and she wasn't going to get discharged for disobeying.

He glanced through the papers, then muttered something unsavory. He handed the orders back and nodded slightly. "Then welcome to the team, I guess." 

Steve walked over, adjusting the straps of his shield. "Ready to go?" 

He looked around, then back to Steve. "Just us?" 

Steve nodded. "They want to keep the teams small. Two tactical and one medical. Let's get moving."

Kat looked down at the ground with raised eyebrows and eyes that said she thought this was crazy business, but kept her mouth shut, fixed her face, and nodded as she looked back up at the two men. The two.. very tall men. She fought to keep her eyes front and center - damn, it had been too long since she'd gotten some alone time. Or time with a guy. She mentally flicked herself on the nose. _Focus!_ "Point the way and I'll start walking, Captain," she said, still thankfully within the appropriate time window of response. She adjusted the heavy medical bag on her back. 

Rogers looked down at her directly, and she hoped the warmth in her cheeks was easily explained by the brisk breeze twisting through the trees. "You must be Miss Lewis. Nice to meet you," he said politely, and she smiled a little (and just a bit awkwardly) and nodded. Steve pulled out a folded up map from his uniform and unfurled it for them to look at. "We'll be heading to the west," he continued, looking back and forth between her and Barnes as he spoke - a natural born leader - "Fourteen miles by jeep. Then we'll be getting our boots dirty. Our mission is to get a view from the top of this ridge." He pointed on the map. "Intel suggests it should be easy. Low chance for combat." He exchanged a glance with Bucky that said he didn't fully believe that, and his gaze returned to Kat's eyes. "Miss Lewis, if either me or Bucky gives you an order, I expect you to follow it. It's a matter of your own safety." 

She was already nodding. "Of course, Captain. Not my area of expertise." She looked between the two of them. Both of them looked slightly unsettled with the prospect of bringing a woman untrained in combat with them. She could relate to the feeling.

Bucky headed for the jeep Steve had indicated. "Someone dropping us off, or are we keeping the jeep with us?" he asked as he chucked his pack into the back seat. Low risk was a pile of B.S. Two of the last six 'low risk' encounters had ended in a fire fight, and the only reason it hadn't been three was thanks to the sniper rifle currently slung over his shoulder. 

"We're being dropped off. Can't risk anyone finding it without us there," Steve said, turning and beginning to walk to the west side of the road. "C'mon."

Bucky jumped up into the jeep. "You walking the whole way, Cap? Gotta keep that star-spangled rear end in shape?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I thought that was Bryant's." He said, climbing up after Bucky and then turning to help Lewis up. "If it didn't stay in shape by itself, all the fighting would do it," he smirked, and looked over to see Kat blushing.

"God bless America," Bucky said with a sarcastic smirk at the other two, firing up the jeep. "Who's driving-" He was interrupted by Morita shoving him out of the driver's seat and climbing in. 

"Let's go," he said with a grin at them all, and floored the jeep.

* * *

The men were obviously a thousand times more comfortable than Katherine was, if she was going by their laughter and easy postures, but as they neared the dropoff point they became quieter, stiller. They were getting close. She wiped her palms off on her jumpsuit. 

Bucky watched the roads more carefully as they neared the drop point. Any information about local geography or buildings could be crucial if they had to make a mad dash for it later.

Steve grew just as vigilant, and Morita stopped cracking as many jokes and let the only sounds heard be those of the jeep and the surrounding forest. "Alright," Morita said as he slowed the jeep down. "This is you." 

Kat nodded, tightening the straps of her pack and swallowing hard. 

Bucky grabbed his pack and slung it over his shoulders as he hopped down out of the jeep, his boots stirring up dust. Steve jumped out beside him and held out a hand for Kat. "Twenty-four hours, Jim." Morita nodded, glancing back to make sure they had all of their equipment. 

"Twenty-four. See you then, lads. Uh... And lady." And he spun the jeep around and headed back up the road. 

"Well, this is about as out of depth as I've ever felt," she said simply as the jeep disappeared down the road. She scratched the back of her neck, trying to look casual. Or at the very least, not afraid. 

"Everyone feels that way on their first recon," Steve assured her, before glancing at his compass. "Alright. That trail will get us the first few miles. Then it will be rougher terrain. Come on." And he headed off down the path. Bucky motioned for Kat to follow, his rifle in his hands.

She followed dutifully, without complaint, and without saying anything else. She wasn't really sure when it was appropriate to speak aloud while in enemy territory after all, and god forbid she be the reason they were attacked. 

They walked uninterrupted for a distance that was going to make her very sore the next day, and then they rounded a corner in the trail and Steve staggered back a step, his shield raising, and then it was soaring off into the trees at the same time as the gunshot reached her ears. It was followed directly after by a sickening thud and a short scream and another sickening thud, and then Steve caught his shield again and reached a hand up to press to his left shoulder. "I'm hit. We need to move - they'll come looking for their sniper soon." 

Bucky nodded, already raising his rifle higher and ignoring the aching, leaking sensation just inside his left hip. The pain hadn't hit yet, and that gave them time to move. "Let's go. Ms. Lewis, stay just behind the captain."

She made some sort of strangled noise in response, hot on the captain's heels, adrenaline spiking her heart rate. She very much wasn't certain how much time had passed when they stilled again (she had a watch, but she'd neglected to check the time they'd started walking much faster, whoopsie), but they were now on the ridge as ordered. She turned to Rogers as soon as he set down his equipment bag and pointed at a nearby boulder. "I'm requesting that we take a minute to address your bullet wound, sir." 

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine. Almost healed up. Buck, you'll want her to look at you, I think. It isn't great if I can smell the blood."

Bucky glared at him. "You realize how disturbing every section of that sentence was, right?" he retorted. He tried to sit down, but his leg buckled under him halfway through, and he swore, catching himself awkwardly. "It's through-and-through. Nothing major. I can walk on it, clearly."

Kat looked about ready to bite one of their heads off by the time they'd shut up, her eyes locked on Bucky with an intensity that Steve was glad wasn't currently directed at him. "Shock is why you can walk on it, and shock will only carry you so far. Sergeant Barnes, I'm going to insist that I attend to your injury. I'm assuming you _don't_ want sepsis." 

"Wasn't on the Christmas list, no," he agreed grudgingly, sitting where he was, given that the boulder she'd indicated was a few paces further away than he particularly wanted.

She was already unbuckling the straps of her bag and setting it on the ground to get out the supplies she needed. "Where were you hit?"

"Here." He pressed at the dark green fabric of his trousers. In the dappled shade of the forest, it was easy to miss the large dark stain that had made its way down past his knee. He found the hole at the waist of his trousers, just below his left-hand ammo pouch, about two and a half inches inside of his hip bone, and still leaking readily. The pain was difficult to place, and to be honest he wasn't positive it was through-and-through, but the pain in his back seemed to suggest it. It wasn't the best place he could have been hit, but not the worst, either. He was still alive and conscious, so that was something.

Kat didn't blink, just nodded, pulling cleaning supplies out of her bag, and desperately, desperately trying to stop herself from blushing. "Alright, shimmy your pants down a bit for me and we'll get you cleaned up, okay?" She said, pulling out gloves from the bag and replacing her cloth gloves with the latex. She kept her back to him for the moment, deciding that watching him begin to take off his pants was not conducive to being professional right now, and frantically reminded herself she'd seen plenty of naked men in her time nursing, and that _Barnes_ wasn't even going to _be_ naked. She would just be... _very_ close to parts unknown. 

He sighed and undid his belt, flipping Steve off when he laughed. He loosed buttons and worked his trousers down on that side, wincing as tacky blood peeled away from his skin. The entry wound was clean enough, but the skin surrounding it was already becoming inflamed.

Kat's lips twitched up a little at Rogers' laugh, though she managed to keep her face serious as she turned around. A bullet wound alright, and a lucky one. She approached with her supplies and sat to his side. "Shift that way a little for me, please. I need to see.. alright, it exited, you can stay still again for a bit," she said distractedly, patting his shoulder twice and then getting out the alcohol and gauze. "I think it missed your pelvis, though it had to have been close. If you feel _any_ grating you need to tell me, it means you probably have a bone fragment in there and Dr. Herman will need to take a look." 

He nodded, setting his teeth when he saw the alcohol. He'd gotten shot once before, just a graze, but it had burned like hell getting it cleaned. This, he felt, was going to be a hell of a lot worse. On the upside, if you could call it that, he now had his experience with Hydra tipping the scales of his perspective on pain. "Any grating. Got it."

"You know, Buck, this isn't how your mother taught you to dress around women," Steve said from where he was prodding at his shoulder experimentally. 

"Screw off, Rogers," he muttered, trying to adjust his trousers slightly higher up his hip.

She couldn't help the smirk that made its way onto her lips at the captain's ribbing, wetting the gauze with alcohol and then beginning to blot at the wound. "And _this_ is why boy number three was convinced going off to nurse in the war wasn't the doing of moral woman. And that's why boy number three isn't in the picture anymore," she told Bucky, trying to keep his mind off what she was doing to his injury. She wouldn't stitch it - not until they got to a place where he didn't have to run on it. Bandaging would do for now. 

"He had objections to your treating ra- andom half-dressed men in th- _shit, ow_ \- The forest?" he said with a smirk, trying to focus on the conversation and not the burning sensation leaking through him in a way that was more than a little disturbing.

"Sure did. But you're not random; I know your name. Know hell of a lot more about you and seen a lot less of you than my usual patient - wonder how the scales woulda balanced there for him," she wondered aloud, finishing cleaning and taking a good look at the injury, leaning in a little, earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of blood. "You're bleeding a lot less than I would have thought for this wound. When we get back I want the doctor to take a look, make sure there's no internal bleeding. Not that there should be, but..." She shrugged, sitting back, and fastened the bandage to the wound before looking at Steve. "You sure you don't want me to look at that shoulder? You sure the bullet exited?"

Bucky pulled his trousers up carefully, using his waistband to press the bandages in place and doing his belt carefully. 

Steve shakes his head. "It's fine. I can feel the hole in the back of my uniform, but the wound is already closed over."

Her eyebrows raised, and she marched over before he had a chance to argue and stood on her tiptoes at his back, peering into the hole. "Hey, Rogers? That's a little freaky, you know that, right?" She said blankly, shocked to find that where she had been expecting a bloody hole was a red patch of skin.

"Trust me, Ms. Lewis, it was a surprise to me, too, the first time it happened," he assured her, walking over to give Bucky a hand up. 

She just stood there for a second, gloved hands on her hips, and then she shook her head and pulled off the latex gloves, turning them inside-out before returning them to her pack and replacing them with the cloth gloves. It was a waste to throw out latex gloves, and at the larger encampments she'd seen entire racks of newly-cleaned latex gloves ready to be reused again. 

Steve helped Bucky up with no more than a hand that lingered just a second longer than usual on his shoulder before he turned and looked out over the ridge. "We need to start keeping a real watch on the place. Buck, take the goggles from my pack and start, I'll set up the tent." 

Kat looked over, brushing a loose strand of red hair out of her eyes, and raised her brows. "Tent? Singular?" 

Steve gave her a rueful smile. "Tent, singular. It's camouflaged, but we still don't want to draw attention to ourselves with too much." 

"It's fine, Ms. Lewis," Bucky said as he walked as evenly as he could over to Steve's pack. "You can have it to yourself for the most part. Steve and I will be keeping watch, and I'll be alright napping out here."

Her hands went back to her hips, her face hardening. "That's ridiculous. There's snow on the ground, Barnes, and you're injured. You will _not_ be sleeping outside while there is access to a tent. Just do me a favor and promise not to tell Dugan. He'll get inspired to go get himself shot, the awful flirt that he is," she snorted, and crouched by her pack to finish putting everything back where it belonged. 

"One little hole isn't going to kill me," he muttered, adjusting his rifle and limping toward the ridge. 

Steve rolled his eyes. "Don't mind him. He's always hated getting rescued."

Kat snorted a little, picking her pack up off the ground just to have something to do with herself, and then sitting on the boulder she'd pointed out earlier. "No one except the most immature of people _like_ it. You soldiers, though, you really, really dislike it," she sighed, shaking her head. She looked over at Steve. Tall, blond, blue eyes. His best friend had two out of three of those, but the type of man Kat went for didn't have a set hair color. Both of them were beautiful in a way that made her want to touch their faces, but she knew that was a pipe dream. National icons didn't go for nurses, they went for models or actresses, and their best friends went for something similar, she imagined. 

"Comes with the territory, I think," he said, unrolling the tent canvas. "I don't mind so much. I got used to Bucky saving my bacon. He's still adjusting to the reverse, is all." 

"That's the handy part about growing up different than Barnes. You're already used to it by the time you get here," she said easily, watching him work. "Do you want help? I grew up on a farm - idle hands are devil's workshop and all that." 

He laughed, tossing her a tent pole. "Sure. Easier with two, anyway." 

She caught it (though she was a little afraid that she wouldn't) and began the relatively familiar motions of setting up a tent. She'd gone camping in the back yard every now and then with her siblings, or Betty from the next farm over, and she'd gone on a hunting trip or two with her father when her brothers had had more important things to be doing (chasing girls.) It wasn't long at all before it was done, and she stood next to Rogers for a moment, admiring their handiwork, before she spoke. "That's the funkiest looking tent I've ever seen. Time to stuff Barnes in it." 

He smirked. "Let him take this watch. Otherwise he'll try to sneak out all night."

She looked like she didn't like that idea very much but knew what was pragmatic. A lot of her job was managing patients' various rebellions. "Alright, then. Anybody think to bring a deck of cards?" 

"No. Bucky might've," he said, walking over to the ridge. "Buck, you have that deck?"

Bucky nodded toward his pack. "Side pocket. Getting cozy?"

Steve took the last few steps to the pouch and bent to fish out the cards. "Can't leave a lady bored, Buck, you taught me that," he replied with his crooked smile, then took a moment to look over the ridge with his friend. "She brought it up, and I think it's a good idea to keep her distracted. Nobody's first mission is a bunch of roses." 

"And this one started so well," he agreed gruffly, lowering his binoculars to scan the foreground. "I found the compound, but all's quiet at the moment."

"Fine with me. Activity is what worries me," he said, looking down at the forest below.

"I'm not complaining, exactly, but we knew where the place was, more or less. The less active they are, the more we're going in blind." He sighed, and glanced over at Steve. "Well? Don't keep the lady waiting, punk."

"Jerk," he rolled his eyes, and clapped Bucky on the shoulder before turning and walking back to Kat, holding the cards up.

* * *

The sun set with abrupt determination, as if eager to escape the cold. And it _was_ cold. Bloodloss hadn't helped that. By the time Kat brought over a bowl of stew, he was suppressing shivers. He took the got bowl gratefully. "Thanks."

"Thank the cook for packing us food and a pot to heat it in," she said in response, sitting down next to him to eat her own. "How do you feel? Tired at all?"

"About as spry as I usually feel after slogging all day," he said, spooning stew into his mouth. "You?"

"Cold, but that's the snow talking," she said with a shrug, beginning to eat. "Not more tired than usual? You should be."

"I'd say 'what are you, my doctor?', but you are," he sighed. "I'm tired. Yes. But when haven't I been, lately? Same as you and everyone else."

"It's just a question to check and see how taxed you are by your injury. You should be asleep by now." She huddled further into her coat. "But you're up, which is odd."

He shrugged. "Got a high pain tolerance," he muttered, giving up on the spoon and lifting the bowl to his lips to drink.

"Not really about the pain - just your body healing," she shrugged right back. She was silent for a moment, and wondered about that pain tolerance. He'd been captured and tortured by Hydra - it was common knowledge in the nurses' tent, though nobody talked about it much - and had come back different than when he had left. She'd seen a lot of men like that, and she knew they didn't like to talk about those things. But they did like company. "I thrashed your friend at Euchre, by the way. Unless he let me win, in which case I'll thrash him again. Odds on him throwing?" 

"Low. He has a horrible poker face," he said with a smirk, wiping gravy off of his mouth. "He's pretty good at Euchre though, so what do I know. How's your game?"

"Good. Family game for me, too," she nodded, smiling. "I'm the family card shark."

He laughed. "Good. Wipe the floor with him."

He sighed, setting the bowl aside and turning back to the lit compound in the distance. 

"You got it, Sergeant," she smirked, finishing up her own stew and setting the bowl besides her. "You should call it soon. It's late."

"Whenever I call it, Steve comes on," he said, settling back into his melted patch of ground. "And he won't let me come back on. So I'll stay my shift."

She sighed silently through her nose. "Am I going to have to pull rank on you, Barnes, or are you going to make my life easy tonight?"

He glared up at her out of a muddy, dour face, but then sighed. "Fine," he muttered, pushing himself up and then slowly to his feet, favoring his leg.

She nodded approvingly, standing and picking up her bowl. "There's a good soldier. Dr. Herman is already going to be appalled you got shot, I at least want to make sure he doesn't blame _me,"_ she chuckled, looking over at him to gauge his mood. She didn't want him to resent her for doing her job - sometimes they did.

He nodded noncommittally and headed doggedly for the tent. He was tired. Aggressively so. He didn't have the energy to argue with her and Steve, and he knew that had he refused she would have recruited the captain.

She took in his expression and fell tactfully silent, peeling off as they reached the tent and heading to the fire, where Steve was still putting away food into his hollow leg. "I browbeat Barnes into resting. You're up, Cap."

He laughed and finished the last of the food his plate. "You out-stubborned Bucky Barnes. Impressive."

"Oh, believe me, you haven't seen stubborn ‘til you've met the Lewis family," she smiled, shrugging as if it was common knowledge.

He nodded, standing and stretching. "Well, thank you. He stopped listening to me a long time ago." He nodded to the ridge. "Get me if you need anything."

"Sure. Thanks," she nodded, and looked to the tent. "Should I give him space?"

He shrugged. "Up to you. He doesn't bite. But you need to get warm as much as he does, and your body heat in there will help him."

She rubbed her eyes and nodded. "You're right. Okay, I'll see you... Later, then," she said, and gave him a slight smile before heading back towards the tent. She pushed into it a minute later. "I do promise I'm not following you on purpose this time."

Bucky was removing soaking layers of clothes, hanging them from the tent over the small gas heater. He looked up at her, lips slightly blue, face pale, but otherwise steady. "You're fine. Come in."

She felt her mouth get dry at the realization that he was in the middle of peeling off a couple layers, but was relieved she didn't blush. She wondered if Colonel Phillips had handpicked her for this job or just asked her commanding officer to pick for him, but either way felt like a mix between a blessing and a curse. She sidled a little further into the tent and sat on the cot furthest from him. "Stew help you warm up at all?"

He nodded, going to undo his trousers and then eyeing her, thinking better of it and just sitting instead. "A bit. Thank you." 

She nodded, then pointed at his injury. "I'll need to see that again in the morning, just so you know." She looked away from him (and his shirtless chest) with a little effort, reminding herself firmly she was a nurse and not a harlot. 

He nodded slightly, laying down on his cot and getting under the blankets, shucking his wet trousers carefully once he was under them and reaching up to hang them next to the rest of his clothes. "Understood. If that will be all, general?" he ribbed gently.

She chuckled, pulling off her boots and settling down as well. "That will be all, Sergeant, thank you." She rolled over, smiling to herself a little, and did her best to go to sleep. 

He closed his eyes, huddling under the blankets, trying to get warm and ignore the pain in his hip. He pulled the blankets over his head, letting his breath help warm the space, and shut his eyes. 

* * *

_"Er ist wieder bewusstlos."_

_[He is unconscious again.]_

_"Er ist nicht so stark wie ich gehofft hatte."_

_[He is not as strong as I had hoped.]_

_"Gib mir die spritze. Er sollte jetzt in der lage sein, mit einer anderen dosis umzugehen. Entweder wird es ihn töten oder es wird nicht."_

_[Give me the syringe. He should be able to handle another dose. Either it will kill him or it will not.]_

_"Oi! Leave him be, you nazi fucks. Didn't your mothers ever tell yo- yeah, fine, come at me, then. Cowards. You idiots probably don't even know what I'm sayi- h- GH- FUCK-"_

_Pain, and cold, and stone, and needles._

Kat didn't fall asleep before Bucky started tossing and turning, and she ignored it for a long time before he made a noise that she realized meant he was having a nightmare. She lay in the dark for a few minutes, debating what to do, if anything, and then he moved again and she pushed off the blankets. "Bucky?"

_He stared up at the ceiling, desperate to look to the side, to see what_ they _were doing, what was coming, but the straps held him down, snarled around his head and arms and legs, and there was the deep ache of a needle in his hip..._

_Bucky?_

His eyes snapped open, and he strangled the noise his mouth was trying to make with a swift hand between his teeth, his breaths coming in short, heaving gasps.

She sat on the edge of her cot and looked at him in the darkness, worry in her gut. But it wasn't something she hadn't seen before. "You're in a tent in some backwater forest in Germany. Captain Rogers is outside, somewhere. You're safe." Relatively, but she needed to calm him.

"I know where I am," he said a bit sharply. He hadn't, but she had no reason to assume it. He sat up, ignoring the cold, and reached for his damp-but-warm clothes. He wasn't going to sleep. May as well spell out Steve.

She frowned a little but said nothing for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Every case was different, and Bucky was no exception. She bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, then said, "You know that talking about it won't get you discharged, right? If you're careful?"

"You don't make that call," he muttered, pulling on his shirt and starting to button it.

"No, I don't. I'm just informing you," she said quietly. "Not my business otherwise, I know."

He tucked his shirt in carelessly, then swore when he accidentally jarred his forgotten injury. Reaching for his coat, he tugged it on. "Get some sleep, Ms. Lewis."

She sighed through her nose and shifted to lay back down. It wasn't her business to force him to talk. Telling anybody was risky, and she was a stranger.

He stalked out into the snow, zipping the tent behind him. He was almost immediately shivering, but he headed off to find Steve anyway. He sat beside the (now) bigger man, curling up on himself slightly.

Steve didn't look away from his surveillance for a few minutes, then he glanced at Bucky. "I think she was probably just trying to help," he said casually, picking up his binoculars. 

"I'd be angry but I know you can't help it," he muttered. He rubbed at his eyes. "I don't _need_ help."

"Do you not need it, or do you not want it?" Steve rebutted, and set the binoculars down again in his lap and turned to frown at the brunette. "I hear you at night, Buck. Can't help it." 

"Again, I wish I could be angry about that. What happened to you being a pipsqueak I used to scrape off of alley walls back into his trousers?" He set his head on his knees, his hip and head throbbing in time.

"Not sure, Buck, not sure," he sighed, resting his elbows on his knees and looking down at Bucky's huddled form. If they were still kids, he could have hugged him without any thought, right here in this moment, but they weren't kids anymore. People looked longer at touches between men. It was just habit by now to sit with a few inches between them, to drop hands from shoulders before it became suspicious, to sleep in separate tents every night and pursue women separately. He wanted to grab Bucky by the collar and crush him to his chest - had wanted to every day since finding him strapped to that table - and he wanted to demand, _beg_ that his friend tell him how to help. But he couldn't. The solid wall of masculinity separated them. 

They were silent for a long moment, and Bucky knew, without any of it being said. It didn't need to be. Eventually, he lifted his head up. "You should go get some sleep."

Steve gave him an unimpressed look. "Nice try. I can miss two days of sleep before it slows me down, remember? Go try to sleep again. Pray you didn't tick off our only medical officer out here."

He bit back his protest. That he didn't want to. That he hated volunteering to be back on that table over, and over, and over again every time he closed his damn eyes. That he'd give his own right arm to be able to get one good night's sleep. But he knew didn't have a right to complain. Others had it worse. He stood without responding, following orders doggedly, and headed for the tent.

Kat was lying down again when he came back. It was unclear if she was asleep. If she was awake, she gave no indication of it. 

He undressed again, still stiffly, and lay down on his cot, pulling his blankets up over himself tightly, resigning himself to trying to sleep.

* * *

Kat wasn't quite sure when she had fallen asleep, but she woke up with a start the next morning when Steve leaned into the tent and said, "Breakfast." 

Bucky was already awake, staring at the tent roof, and sat up without comment, starting to get dressed.

She shuffled out of the cot, pulled on her boots, and blearily dragged herself out into the morning sun. Steve was sitting a few feet away from the tent on a log, eating his morning ration. "Hi," she rasped. 

"Good morning," he said cheerfully, passing her a paper-wrapped ration packet. "Bacon sandwiches. At least, I think it's bacon."

She chuckled. "Been on these things two years; I tell myself it’s bacon. Keeps me sane," she said, taking the sandwich with a nod. "When can we get off this ridge and away from less scary bases?”

"After breakfast," he said, tossing another package to Bucky as he limped carefully over. "We have six hours to get back to the rendezvous."

Kat nodded, and tore into her sandwich without another word, still in the process of waking up and in no particular mood to be chatty. Steve, however, seemed to be a morning person. 

"How's your leg feeling?" Steve asked of Bucky.

"Had worse," he said through a mouthful of bacon. "Cold's keeping it mostly numb for now. Can't say I'm looking forward to the walk back, but I'll be alright."

Kat swallowed her last mouthful of sandwich (how she had managed to eat the whole thing in such a short amount of time was a mystery) and looked to Bucky. "Let me look at it again before we start walking. I want to make sure it didn't get too much worse overnight." 

He took another half-interested bite and nodded, tucking the sandwich into a pocket and standing, heading for the tent. He wasn’t interested in baring his ass in the snow.

She took his silence with a shrug at Steve, who smirked, and stood to follow after him, boots crunching in the light cover of snow on the hard ground. Normally, she might have put on her bedside manners and charm, but right now was not a normal circumstance. She was on a reconnaissance mission with a super soldier and his best friend ( _both_ of whom were attractive to the point of distraction), and it was the ass-crack of dawn. Her mother would have slapped her on the arm for saying anything _close_ to the term 'ass-crack,' but she'd really come to like swearing in the limited time that it had been available to her. When she got out of this war, and went back to her humdrum farm life where she'd known every boy in town since she was old enough to go to school, she would keep the swearing. Her parents would scold her, but all it would take to hush them again would be a reminder of the lives she had saved, and the lives she had seen lost, and they would fall silent again. No boy would marry her, not with the swearing, but that was alright. None of the ones who had stayed behind would understand her troubled nights, and none of the ones who had gone would be there to marry her. 

God, was she morbid in the mornings. She shook her head as she pushed into the tent, her red hair a little wilder from sleep than she normally would have liked it. "Alright, let's get it over with, shall we?" 

He was already sitting down and undoing his belt, leaning back so that he could ease his pants over his hip carefully and expose the bandaging. 

Kat bent over him and gently peeled the bandages back.

And blinked. "There was a hole there yesterday."

* * *

_"Remember when you find my bones,_

_Remember that I told you so,_

_I told you so,_

_And when my ashes fall like snow,_

_Remember that I told you so,"_

_-Dirt Poor Robins_

_Scarecrows_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This edit is of Jessica Chastain, who I chose as Katherine's face claim. You'll see more of those. Sorry! XD
> 
> Dirt Poor Robins - Scarecrows  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-WQxwM0kMHA&list=PLSCvi5dTA1aiL1LzhqnoW3_ks41qbsTZs&index=3&t=0s


	2. If You Didn't Know Better You'd Call Them Lucky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Love seeing those subs and kudoses, they mean a lot! Comments are also dearly loved, and I'm interested to hear thoughts! Hit us up!

He looked down to where she had pulled the bandaging back, and felt his gut sink. Where the bullet hole had been was a small, round span of bright pink scarring, still raw and fresh, but very much sealed over. He yanked his trousers back up. 

Kat looked a little pale, and swallowed. This was a big secret. There was no question about it. "I won't say anything."

He sat there, feeling vaguely ill. He'd wondered. Of course he had. How not? But to have it confirmed that whatever they had done to him had stuck... What else would it do? What else was inside of him? 

Eventually he focused on what she had said. "You should report it," he pointed out. "If you don't it will drag you down whenever it comes out."

She shook her head. "No. No one has to know you were shot. I never saw this. Rogers won't be the one to tattle."

"Fuck... He has to know," Bucky muttered, rubbing his eyes. "No way around that one... That's three of us..."

"Three of us and no one else," she nodded, looking somewhere into the middle space between them, lost in thought. "I don't... Want to say this. But keep bringing me on these. Not Dr. Herman, not Debbie. They can't know."

He let out a weak sort of laugh. "No need, right? I'll just heal."

She nodded. "We'll see if this scars. If it doesn't, you're in the clear. Just don't let them take any blood. Or samples." She paused, thinking, seeing if there was anything she had missed. "God this would be easier if I was a man."

He raised an eyebrow as he redid his belt. "How so...?"

"I could take control of the medical team here, stop anything from getting higher. I can't do that as a nurse. A doctor, yes." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. 

He nodded slightly. "Right... Well... We'll do what we can," he said quietly, standing up. "Let's get packed."

She nodded back and turned to start doing just that. Steve came to help a few minutes later, having taken care of the cooking equipment. 

He took one glance at Bucky and knew something was wrong - it took more than one glance to determine that Kat was just as upset, but he figured it out. He cleared his throat about halfway through taking down the tent, and said, "So is one of you going to tell me what's wrong, or am I going to have to put on my Captain voice?" 

"Not the dance hall. Your captain voice doesn't make anybody swoon," Bucky shot back with a half-hearted grin, tying off the bag of tent pegs. 

"Oh, I don't know about _that_ ," Kat muttered under her breath - probably too quiet for the average person to hear. Steve heard it just fine, and stifled a smile. 

"Not about swooning - it's about solving problems." 

Bucky was quiet for a few minutes as he lashed tent poles together. Finally he said, "Bullet hole healed up."

Steve froze, crouched on the ground, the tent canvas half rolled up. His eyes went to Kat first, when he did move, and she was looking back at him with a face that confirmed she knew this new, grim knowledge. He looked to Bucky, and for once struggled to read what the other man was thinking. He could make a couple educated guesses, but this was so far out of left field... "I'm sure it doesn't need to be said," he started, moving again, his hands sure and steady as he rolled up the canvas, "But this doesn't leave this forest. None of the others need to know. Not yet, at least." 

Bucky finished tying up the tent poles to his pack. "We need to talk about it, Steve. Covering this up might not be the smartest idea."

Steve took a deep breath and stood, hoisting the bag up onto his back. "Buck, if they know that another serum succeeded, they'll want to know if they can replicate it. They would pull you off the front lines and stick you in a lab until they figured out whether or not they could make another one of you."

Kat cleared her throat a little, looking at Bucky. "For as long as we don't report it, we have plausible deniability. _If_ you don't scar, that is. If you do, well..." she looked over at Steve. "Then we might have to report it." 

"Steve," Bucky said, ignoring Kat for the moment, catching his friend's gaze. "We don't know what they did to me. We don't. That's the bottom line. What happens if I'm compromised at the wrong moment?"

Steve's hands went to his hips, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Compromised how? Like an implant?" He turned, running a hand over his hair and looking out over the ridge for a moment, hand falling back to his hip. "Are you willing to risk spending the rest of your life in some lab? Or becoming as big a target as me? Buck, please - at least wait until the war is over. Wait until they can't say they need you."

"We have no idea how long that will be," he retorted. "If we end up in the middle of some gun fight I'm sure as hell not..." He trailed off, glancing at Kat, and sighed. "We'll talk about it later. Let's get back. We don't have a lot of time."

Steve let out an unhappy sigh but nodded, gathering up his share of the bags without another word. Kat followed his lead, cognizant that this wasn't exactly her business, and aware she should stay out of it unless they asked. It was up to her to keep the secret as long as they asked, and that was it. 

* * *

The walk back was blessedly quiet. Bucky mostly followed Steve and Kat's pathbreaking, doing his best not to limp. Sealed up or no, clearly the wound hadn't fully healed, and every step sent sharp pain down his thighbone and up into his side. Despite his determination not to let it slow him down, it still did, but he practiced walking normally anyway. He would need to hide the injury once they returned to camp.

Morita picked them up without incident, and tried and failed to strike up a decent conversation with any of them. He seemed to guess something wasn't right, but Morita had a good sense about when to let things lie. He was a good peacemaker. They arrived at camp and Steve dismissed Kat; she went back to the infirmary tent and met up with Debbie, who talked long and fast about her experience on her mission. Kat was relieved to not have to talk.

Bucky stood by dutifully while Steve debriefed, but as soon as he was relieved he headed out of the camp toward the river a quarter mile away or so. He wanted to wash off the grime and try to rest his leg.

* * *

It was an hour or two later that Steve found him, out of his suit and back to army standards for the moment. "Lucky for the snow, otherwise I might have misplaced you again," he said as he walked up, hands in his pockets.

Bucky was sitting on his pack, holding a snowpack against his hip. "The water's freezing, if you were considering a bath. It'll turn you straight into a woman."

Steve laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure it will. Wasn't really planning on it, though. Just was lookin' for you."

He scooted over, making a little room on the pack. "Come on then. Don't get the star spangled ass wet."

"You're really never going to get over that, huh?" He smirked, stepping over a small rock to sit next to Bucky. It was a tight squeeze: shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Once upon a time he would have fit easily. Now? Well, no one could blame two fellas for not wanting their asses to be wet from the snow. 

“Wasn't planning on it, no. Whoever designed that thing had an eye toward showing you off," he smirked, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees. 

"I'll admit, the booty shorts were a little much," he chuckled, mimicking the other man's posture without thinking in a way that had been ingrained into him since they'd met. His Ma had always said that she'd never seen a pair of boys so in tune with each other. They fought, sure; everyone does occasionally. But it wasn't the same. "The new one is a _little_ less tight. And no booty shoots. That's a win in my book." 

"The new one is what I was referring to," he laughed. "That first one was a trainwreck," He nudged Steve's shoulder with his own.

"I like the new one!" He protested, grinning, and knowing quite well that out of the two of them, he was not the fashion expert. Dressing up to impress girls had never been quite realistic for him, and he'd known it. "It makes me target, but that's not completely a bad thing. Means the rest of you aren't getting shot at as much."

"When did I say I objected to you being shown off?" Bucky retorted. "You being a bigger target, though, _that_ I could do without."

He shrugged. "Comes with the territory. S'what I signed up for, isn't it? I know it's what you were fighting me against, but..." he sighed, shaking his head a little. "I don't think I regret it. Not yet, at least." 

"Yeah. Well." He shifted, picking up some more snow for his hip and packing it into place. He was freezing, but it hurt less.

Steve watched him pack the snow, and slowly became aware of the barely-noticeable vibration traveling through Bucky's side and into him. "You cold, jerk?"

"No," he muttered, hunching over again. "Are you?"

Yeah," he lied easily, slinging an arm around Bucky's shoulders. "Fuckin' freezing." 

“Liar," he muttered, leaning into Steve's warm side. "It's still bizarre how big you are. You were such a twink before."

Steve nearly choked on his own spit he started laughing so hard, throwing his head back and holding onto Bucky's shoulder to keep from knocking him off the pack. "God, like the dock workers calling me that wasn't enough, you too?"

Bucky laughed too, elbowing Steve gently in the ribs. "So tell me, cap, did _everything_ get bigger?"

Steve blushed all the way to his ear tips, and coughed a little, reaching up to rub his face. "It's ah," he half-laughed, half-coughed, his face bright red, "Ah, proportional, I guess. Chafing has.. ah, become a problem for the first time."

Bucky laughed, reaching up to take Steve's jaw and tug him around to look at him. "Good to know," he said, grinning. "I look forward to finding out first hand when we have a chance."

Steve shook his head with a laugh and leaned forward to close the distance between them, kissing Bucky solidly, the arm wrapped around his shoulders pulling him in tight.

Bucky pressed up against him, half to kiss him properly, half to steal his warmth- _how was he warm, the bastard?_ He relaxed a little, tense and knotted muscles relaxing a bit. This was familiar. Safe. This was too many beers and a little curiosity one night when they were thirteen. This was furtive and silent in his bedroom when his parents were out. This was stolen moments, strength and reassurance and nothing complicated. This wasn't war. 

In retrospect, Steve should have known that it was a risky thing to do - they weren't all that far from camp, and it wouldn't have been completely out of character for any of the men to follow with a whiskey in hand and a request to play cards. He should have heard the footsteps earlier. But Bucky was there, and he was still battling back fear for him, and they hadn't had an opportunity to touch each other like this since before Bucky enlisted- 

The creaky crunch of a foot sinking into cold snow shattered the moment, Steve pulling back like he'd been shocked, head whipping around. Kat stood ten feet away, a shotgun resting on her shoulder, her cheeks red from the cold and embarrassment. Her green eyes were wide with surprise, and Steve stood without thinking, the blush back in full force on his face. 

Bucky looked over his shoulder, and this wasn't war. This was Steve, getting into trouble again. He stood, the snow falling from his lap, the pain in his leg forgotten. He walked forward, a restraining hand on Steve's shoulder, assuming control of the situation. "Ms. Lewis," he said. He was perfectly casual, eyeing her, waiting. 

She lifted the hand that wasn't holding the shotgun a little in greeting, still looking like she didn't quite know what to do. What was one supposed to do in this situation? Report them, probably, but that wasn't her. Her parents had raised her to mind her own business, as long as what other people were doing wasn't hurting anybody else. Looking for something to say, she gestured to the shotgun. "Dugan gave me it. In case of bears. Boars are more likely, I think, but... yeah," she said, shrugging slightly. Her cheeks were still pink. She cleared her throat a little, then jacked a thumb back over her shoulder. "I'm.. gonna go back to camp." She'd only made the walk in the first place because she'd wanted to make sure that Barnes didn't resent her for finding out his secret. She started to turn, and Steve took a step forward, and she stopped. 

"Miss Lewis-" he started, in his certified captain voice, and she gave him a pained smile and shook her head a little. 

"I won't say anything. Not my business. Try not to let Debbie catch you, though, she's a gossip." Kat replied as steadily as she could manage, then made to leave again, face burning still. 

Bucky blinked, watching her walk away. What else could they do? 

He turned to Steve. "Odds that we're completely fucked?"

Steve let out a long breath, hands going to his hips, still watching her quickly disappear back down the river, and shook his head a little. "I don't know, Buck."

He nodded just slightly, and rubbed his hands together. "Well, nothing we can do about it now. I'm gonna go try and get warm." He started back toward camp slowly. 

* * *

They moved camps two days later, this time close to the border, near a village so small no army was interested in it. Dugan had the idea of visiting the small local bar, and with a little convincing they pulled the nurses and Dr. Herman with them and crowded into the bar. Steve had discussed with Bucky in hushed tones on the drive taking Lewis to the side to talk to her. They needed to make sure she wouldn't say anything, now that she'd had time to sit on the information. 

The bar was surprisingly lively for a little town, with drinks pouring steadily and a dance going on in an adjoining hall. Bucky ordered a trio of beers and handed one to Steve, before looking around to find Kat. He saw her across the way, adjusting to the atmosphere, and wove through the carousing locals toward her. He slid up beside her, and held out the beer.

"Oh! Hey, Barnes - thanks," she smiled, taking the beer with a nod of thanks. It had been a while since she'd been dancing, and considering she was a familiar woman, several of these men were going to ask her to dance tonight. And she was out of practice. The beer was thus very welcome. 

He nodded, sipping his own and eyeing the revelry. "Don't suppose I could offer you a dance later?"

She almost looked surprised, given what she'd stumbled upon, but her face only twitched slightly before she managed a smile again. She'd been doing her best not to dwell on it. It would be better for all of them if she forgot, after all. "I don't know, are you a good dancer? I think I'm already looking at a dance full of crushed toes for the dance I promised Falsworth," she smirked, sipping her beer. 

"I'm an excellent dancer," he said, giving her a broad smile. "At least I was before these horrendous boots bruised my feet all to hell. Why don't we find out if I'm still as good as I hope?"

She came a little closer to spilling the beer he'd given her than she liked to admit, but she took two big chugs and then put it down on the nearest surface. For a man who presumably didn't care for women, he certainly hid it well. She remembered the girls from the 107th talking about him, and suddenly she wondered. _None of your business, remember?_ her head reminded her. She held out a hand to him and gave him a crooked smile. "Show me what you got, Barnes." 

He laughed, setting his own beer next to hers, and taking her hand, walking through the bar toward the dance floor. "And what do I get if I do?" he asked with a playful glance. 

She blushed slightly, despite herself, and cleared her throat, weaving through the crowd behind him. "Don't have much to offer ya, if I'm being honest. Anything you had in mind?" 

"I'll have to think about it," he chuckled as they stepped out onto the floor and he pulled her gracefully into the fray. He _was_ a good dancer, immediately, and it was daunting for five seconds before she realized all she had to do was keep up and he'd make her look good, so she fell into step and went with the rhythm. 

He waited until they had grown accustomed to each other's movements before he leaned down and spoke quietly. "Ms. Lewis... I wanted to speak to you about the other day."

She faltered, almost missing a step, and felt her face get hot. "I said I wouldn't say anything, Sergeant, and I meant it," she said just as quietly, doing her best to keep her face from looking too embarrassed. There were plenty of reasons for a girl to blush during a dance, but if it looked like she was having a bad time somebody would try to save her.

He spun her artfully out of the press, toward a cooler breeze from a nearby door. "I wanted to be sure. I regret that you had to see that."

They ended up standing in the open doorway of the back of the bar, their backs brushing opposite sides of the door frame, mostly in darkness. The shadows hit the angles of his face in a way that made her wish she could draw just so she could capture it by memory later. "Nothing to be sorry about, Barnes, not on your end. _I'm_ sorry. I probably don't need to be, but I am." She stepped back a little, into the door frame, and tilted her chin towards the reveling crowd. "You can tell Rogers I'm not saying anything."

He smiled just a little. "He'll appreciate it," he agreed, leaning down to kiss her cheek, lingering for just a moment before he straightened. "And so do I."

She felt her stomach do about three good, solid flips, and her cheeks lit up like flames. She knew it didn't mean anything, but there was only so much that her fragile heart could take. She took a second to remind herself that she was _not_ fragile and she would slap herself to prove it if she needed to. "Thanks for the dance, Barnes," she said instead, smiling a little. 

He gave her an easy smile back, expression warm. "Maybe we can do it again sometime soon." 

"Don't get my hopes up, huh? I _know_ I'm just gonna be stuck with Falsworth and the rest tripping on me for the rest of the night," she retorted, waving a hand at him scoldingly. God, did he even know what he was doing? He had to - that was his game, wasn't it?

"Well, then, be sure to let me know if your feet need rescuing," he offered with a wink, before bowing to kiss her hand, and slipping back out into the party.

She stood in the doorway for another minute or two, just allowing the blush in her cheeks to fade to a reasonable level, and then rejoined the crowd. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but I like to feed it as it comes out if that makes sense?
> 
> Comments? :D


	3. Whatever He Sees, He's Not Doing Any Of Them Any Favors

Steve was downing beers one after another for the amusement of Morita and Falsworth when Bucky came back, and he was looking at his last bottle with the beginning of distaste when he spotted the brunette. He stood, quickly chugging the last bottle before putting it firmly back down on the table, raising his eyebrows at Morita and Falsworth. "Told you - not even tipsy. Come and find me in fifteen - I'll be just as sober. For now I gotta talk to this jerk," he smirked, reaching out to clap Bucky on the shoulder. 

"We'll be holding you to that fifteen, Captain; I intend to get the money I bet on your sobriety out of Gabe and Morita here," Falsworth retorted, eyeing Morita with the eye of a _very_ drunk man. Morita looked little better. 

"Lousy heathens," Bucky griped fondly. "Go waste your beer on someone else."

He and Steve left the two still laughing, and headed for a quieter corner. He took a seat at a worn wooden table scarred by years of beer tankards being hauled across it, and sighed. He had used to love dance halls. Now he was longing for quiet.

“What did she say?" Steve asked as he settled into the seat across from him, eyebrows raising slightly. 

"That it was our business," he said, flagging a passing waitress with a wink and signaling for a couple of beers.

"Huh." Steve grunted, then shrugged a little. "Good, then." He was silent again for a moment as the waitress brought back the beers and left again. "She's a nice girl."

He nodded, taking a slow sip of the beer. "Yeah. I like her. She's got guts."

“Do you think it's just what nurses are like, or do you think it's just her?" Steve asked, as much for himself as for Bucky.

Bucky shrugged. "If it's all of them, she has something special on top of it," he said, glancing over his shoulder toward the dance floor. "Plenty of nurses are risking their asses out here, but slogging through snow with the boys like this... That's something different."

The blond sighed into his beer, shaking his head a little as he looked down into the foamy head. "It was Agent Carter who convinced me not to argue so hard when Colonel Phillips suggested we take a couple of nurses from the 107th. Still trying to make it sit right, but if I'd lose the argument with Peggy about it, it's usually the right thing to do."

The brunette shook his head. "You and that girl," he teased. "I can't see how you keep your eyes on just one for so long."

"Easy; I'm used to slim pickings," Steve joked with a crooked smile. "And I can't imagine doing it any other way. Feels wrong."

"Feels boring," he snorted back, finishing his beer and standing. "Speaking of which, I'm heading back to camp. You staying or going?"

"Staying for now. If only to make sure the guys don't get themselves into trouble. They're pretty drunk," the blond shrugged amusedly. "Don't slip in the dark, huh?" 

"You'd catch me anyway, sneaky bastard," he retorted with a smirk. "Don't stay too late, alright?"

Steve waved his hand at him, rolling his eyes. "Didn't know I signed up for a new parent. I got it, jerk. Go try to get some rest, huh?" He ordered, and simply gave Bucky back a smirk at the look he got, and watched him leave. Bucky had used to be the last one home. These days, not so much. He felt a pang in his chest that he didn't know what to do about. 

* * *

The next two hours passed in a blur of dancing for Kat, passing mostly from Falsworth's arms to Dernier's to Jones's, and when the bar finally decided that the risk of the rowdy soldiers breaking the building was imminent, they all piled back out into the cold and back into the jeeps. Debbie climbed in with Morita, and she'd lost track of Dr. Herman in the first exiting of people from the pub, and suddenly she ended up in the last jeep with nobody but Rogers for company. "Hey, Captain," she said amiably as she climbed up into the passenger seat beside him, her cheeks flushed from the dancing and the beer, her red hair frazzled. "Excuse me if I ask you to stop the jeep at any point - I've probably had a pint too many tonight," she chuckled, leaning back in her seat. The beer was doing a splendid job of keeping her mind off her inclinations to be embarrassed in his presence. 

He laughed, giving her a smile. "You aren't the only one. If you don't mind we'll wait a minute, make sure there aren't any stragglers." He looked over at her, and found himself looking for what Bucky saw, eyes following the line of her throat and jaw.

"Sure, I'm not in a rush," she chuckled, letting her eyes shut in the dark, just quietly enjoying her buzz. "You know, I haven't danced like that since the Strawberry Festival at home. Small bar, lot of people you don't know, but just as many that you do. Always had a hangover the next day, but the chickens sure as hell don't care about that. Gotta feed 'em anyway. Wonder how the flock is doing at home. Been a while since I got a letter."

"Do the chickens write often?" Steve asked casually, watching the bar for any of their own wandering away. 

She snorted in amusement, opening her eyes to squint in his direction. "Oh, I bet you think you're funny, don't you? Does a dirty chicken footprint on one of my letters count as writing? Let's go with 'yes.' Only the once, then. Usually it's my folks, occasionally it's my siblings." She fell silent for a moment, and the air was still in the way that only late night in the colder months could conjure. "Had a friend who used to write, but now he's somewhere in Europe like the rest of us and we only get in contact every few months. The mail isn't really made for inter-Europe travel."

He nodded a little at that. "Not really, no," he agreed, looking up at the clear sky overhead. "Sometimes the world feels a little too big for my liking." He glanced at the bar again, then decided they were probably in the clear, and started the jeep.

She sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face and shutting her green eyes again. "A very familiar feeling you're describing there, Rogers," she agreed quietly. "But home felt too small, didn't it? That's why I'm here, at least." 

He shrugged. "Home felt fine to me," he admitted. " _I_ felt too small, not doing anything. I couldn't sit at home, work in some factory."

She nodded slightly. "Maybe I'm the same. I don't know. I just knew that it wasn't right for me to be there. I don't know what I'll do when the war is over." 

He nodded a little at that, headlights cutting into the darkness as they wound their way toward camp. "I was thinking of being a jockey," he deadpanned mildly.

She burst into laughter, looking over at his enormous silhouette and trying to imagine him on a regular-sized horse. "You'd need quite the beast to match your size, Cap. I think those little thoroughbreds would flee at the sight of you." 

He grinned over at her. "Best leave the jockeying to the smaller folks then," he agreed, then reddened suddenly, eyes widening a bit. "Not... I didn't mean anything by that, if you took it that way, and if you didn't... Then I still didn't mean anything by it," he said all in a rush, eyes aimed as stoically as possible on the road. 

Her laughter continued into drunken giggles, and she waved a hand at him, shaking her head. "Oh, please, I know you didn't mean anything by it. Hell, even if you had meant something by it it's not even in my top ten favorite bad one-liners that the boys in uniform have tossed my way. I'm pretty sure Falsworth gave me three of those ten _tonight!"_

He grinned again, relaxing. "He does have a mouth on him. Not nearly as flirtatious as Bucky is but at least Bucky has _good_ lines. Or did, anyway." He turned the jeep into the quiet camp, and said, "Anyway. Where to?"

Kat took a moment to drunkenly assess where exactly they were in the camp, and then pointed the direction her and Debbie's tent was. "Thataway. Not to worry, though, Rogers, I can handle putting myself to bed without a chaperone. Even this drunk, I won't get lost." She fumbled with finding the door handle for a moment and then pushed the jeep door open to crash out of it with the grace of a moose slipping on a banana peel. "Fuck!" 

He turned off the jeep quickly, vaulting over to her side and out with effortless grace and bending to help her up as if she weighed nothing, large warm hands holding her steady. "Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good, I'm okay," she said breathlessly, brushing dirt off her hands and swaying into him once before righting herself. "Skinned my palm, that's all. Sorry for screaming," she added, a huff of amusement in her voice, and then she chuckled at the whole situation. "I appreciate the swiftness of the assistance, thanks." 

He reached up to touch her chin gently where she'd caught it on something. "Why don't I help you back?" he offered, in a way that suggested it wasn’t really optional.

She winced a little at the discovery that she'd banged her chin (it hadn't begun to hurt until he'd brushed it) and decided immediately to take the path of least resistance: which meant nodding in consent, her hand snaking up between them to put pressure on the small cut on her chin. She let out a quiet hiss. "Sorry, I just became much higher maintenance, didn't I?"

He smiled warmly. "Maybe, but you're one of the more pleasant problems I've dealt with lately." He wrapped an arm around her waist as politely as possible, just enough to keep her steady, and headed in the direction she had indicated led to her tent.

"Aww, that's sweet. I think. I'll take being a better problem than Hydra, certainly," she hummed, keeping her voice low as they reached the tents so she didn't wake anybody up, leaning into him unabashedly when she misplaced a step. Tomorrow she would be scandalized by her own behavior, but tonight she was content to just let things happen. 

"Far, far better. Not my best compliment, I'll admit," he chuckled, easing his arm back from around her and making sure she was steady. "You'll be alright?"

She nodded, pointing briefly to her tent a few feet away. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Steve."

He nodded, and turned to go, then turned back. "Bucky told me what you told him. Thank you."

For the first time since the beers she’d had earlier a speck of soberness made itself prevalent, and she paused a foot outside her tent with a glance to see if Debbie had the light on inside. She didn't. Kat gave Steve a tired smile. "Like I said, it was none of my business. Nothing to thank."

He nodded a little. "Still. Most people wouldn't be so... Level headed. Have a good night, Ms. Lewis." He gave a casual salute, and headed back toward the jeep.

She watched him disappear back between the tents and went inside her own, carefully getting ready for bed in the dark, including taping a small bandage to her chin. When she crawled into her cot, listening to Debbie snore gently on the other side of the canvas wall, she thought about Steve and Bucky until she fell into a deep, drunken sleep. 

* * *

Steve mulled over his conversation with Kat as he moved the jeep back with the other camp vehicles, then took the walk back to his tent with his hands in his pockets. Alright, he could admit it to himself. He saw it. Part of him was reluctant to consider the idea; he felt like he barely had Bucky back as it was. But Bucky needed to let off some steam, or something like that, and it was obvious he was not going to do that with Steve, no matter how much he wished he could help. He paused as he came up on his tent, his head turning slightly to try and catch the breathing from the tent one down. Bucky was not asleep. Big surprise. He pivoted on the heel of his foot and took the six extra steps to push inside Bucky's tent. "Buck, hey, I had a thought. And no, you weren't sleeping, I could hear you fidgeting like you had a shot of caffeine before bed." 

Bucky let out a slow, exasperated sigh, and sat up slightly. "Please, come right in," he said a touch sarcastically, though he moved over to make room. "What's this thought that's so important?"

Steve sat down onto the cot without hesitation, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees as he looked over at Bucky. "You should take Kat out, next time we get a chance like tonight." 

"This is what you didn't wake me up for?" he groaned, laying back down on the part of the bunk Steve wasn't occupying. "Don't you have sequins to polish or something?"

"You've got better deflections than _that,_ come on," Steve snorted, shifting his knee out to jostle Bucky's. " _Yeah,_ it's what I didn't wake you up for. I think she'd be good for you."

"You're a weird person to make this argument, you know that?" He asked, pushing a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut. "Alright. I'll think about it. Now go sleep."

He clapped his hand on Bucky's shoulder twice and then used him to push himself to stand, smirking over his shoulder at him. "Yeah, I know. I got my reasons. Try to get some rest, huh? Can't have you watching my back out there with one eye closed, can I?" he smiled, and then slipped back out of the tent, where the smile faded as he walked into his tent next door. Pushing Bucky to any girl had always been risky territory for him - there was always the chance that _this_ one would be the one Bucky had been looking for. That _this_ one would take Bucky from him, permanently this time. He ran a hand over his hair, letting out a silent sigh, then began getting ready to sleep.

"Hard to use a scope with them both open, doofus," Bucky muttered, laying down again and staring at the tent wall. He wanted to ignore Steve, forget what he said and just settle back into his pattern. But the difficult thing about not sleeping was that you had too damned much time to think.

* * *

Kat woke up the next morning hungover and with a sore chin and skinned palms, and had to take a second to remember what on Earth she'd done the night before to warrant these things. When they came back, she rubbed her eyes, sighing heavily. 

"What is it, Kat? You look like - well, damn, you look like you busted your chin open last night. What happened, huh?" Debbie asked a second after she stepped out from behind the flimsy little wall between their beds and into the common space, and came over to crouch in front of Kat, a frown on her delicate face. 

"Captain Rogers drove me home from the pub, and I practically fell out of the car when we got back. God, I'm so embarrassed about it now," she groaned, and Debbie gave her a sympathetic look and a pat on the knee. 

"It'll be fine, Kat, don't worry yourself. You're a charming drunk, not like me. I'm sure everything is fine." 

"Yeah... I sure hope so." 

* * *

Steve was up bright and early in the morning, shaving in his portable mirror and dressing in his uniform (not the Captain America one, just the Captain one) and headed out to immediately stop next door at Bucky's tent, and rapped one of the poles with his knuckles. "Hey, you up in there?" 

"Shiny and eager," Bucky grunted, stooping to duck out of the tent and standing, straightening his jacket. "We still on to break camp at noon?"

"Yep," Steve replied easily, looking down the lane of tents and cataloging the sluggish activity he could hear within them. He wasn't great at pinpointing exactly where each noise came from, but it was clear that everyone had had a little too much to drink last night, judging by the occasional swear or groan. Either way, they had a moment alone. He looked back at Bucky, catching his eye. "About what I brought up last night... You think about it at all?"

"For fuck's sake, Steve," he sighed, head tilting back. "Since when have you cared about my dating life?"

"Since you fucking _stopped_ caring," he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I didn't have to before - you took care of it. My turn. Look-" he started, then shifted and reached out to grab Bucky's shoulder. "-If you follow my advice - like you should - you gotta make it clear you like dames. Had that thought right before I went to sleep last night. Thought we should just sidestep the confusing part as soon as possible." 

"Steve," he said, shrugging Steve’s hand off his shoulder. "Listen. I appreciate you trying to help, but I'm fine. I have the people I need. I like Lewis. I do. But there's a war on. No need to get attached."

Steve's eyebrows rose a little, and his arms returned to being crossed over his chest. "Who said anything about getting attached? 'Cause usually it isn't you." 

Bucky let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. "Steve. You're my best friend. But you're also a pain in my ass. You know that, right?"

Steve gave a crooked smile, looking just a little smug. "Like I'm ever anything else? Yeah, I know that." 

"So just drop it, alright?" he asked, sighing. "I'm fine. You're being a mother hen."

"Alright, alright, I'll drop it," he relented, though from past experience a _for now_ was implied. "I gotta go get some things in order. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Alright," Bucky sighed, watching him walk off before turning to walk down the rows of tents, thinking quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Let us know how you guys feel about this one! Pretty please! Thanks for reading!


	4. Good News: Settling Down Isn't In Your Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets what he wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys! We do our best to write but things get in the way a lot - nevertheless, here's the latest chapter! Also, edit fo those who might have read the first chapter while Kat was.. well.. Blonde. I chose a faceclaim for her, and now she's not blonde anymore! Picture in the first chapter if you're interested, and I'll drop one at the end on this chapter. Thanks for reading!!!!!

The next real opportunity for Steve to push Bucky again was another village stop. A slightly larger village, this time; almost too large to visit its bar. But not quite. Bucky saw the signs brewing, though, and avoided Steve for most of the evening as they set up camp, and soldiers excitedly discussed leave in something almost resembling a real town. He knew there was only one real way to get Steve off of his back completely, though, so he headed off to find Kat shortly after he finished getting his tent set up.

Kat had just finished the backbreaking work of helping set up the medical tent and everything inside, and she was sitting out in the cool air with Debbie, some loose strands of her red hair stuck to her neck with sweat, when she saw Barnes coming. Debbie took about five extra seconds to notice the reason Kat had trailed off in the middle of a sentence before she patted Kat on the hand and gave an excuse about going to find Dr. Herman, and then made herself scarce. Kat was infinitely grateful for it, even though she knew that Barnes coming to see her was unlikely to be for any reason _she_ wanted. Still, she smiled and stood as he got closer, lifting a hand to give him a little wave. "Hey, Barnes, you stub your toe, or did someone else get horribly maimed setting up a tent and you need our medical expertise?"

"Honestly, someone probably has maimed themselves," he said with a sigh. "But that's not why I'm here. Are you going to the bar tonight?"

"Oh," she said, surprised, "Uh, yeah, I was. I was just talking with Debbie about how to wear out Falsworth early so we don't have to dance through our shoes again. I had the worst blisters; he's a dancing menace."

"That bad?" he asked, leaning his shoulder against a tree. "That's miserable. You can't beg off?" He watched the way the winter sun caught her hair, the red tones shifting like it was alive. 

She chuckled, crossing her arms across her chest as a breeze picked up, and shrugged. "He's not bad, just a little enthusiastic. I think there's someone he misses."

"I don't doubt it," he said with a smirk. "Want a hand fending him off? I can try to make you look occupied." 

"I'll dance with him a couple times, just so Debbie gets out of there alive, but then I wouldn't say no to a little help," she smiled, though she wondered. Was there any particular reason he and Steve were remaining so friendly with her? Was it just to protect their secret, or did they genuinely want to be friends? She understood the first one, but she wished for the second. 

He nodded just a little. "Alright, then. I'll see you tonight, then?" He stood again, looking at her expectantly. 

She smiled a little wider and nodded back at him, reaching up to touch the little square band-aid on her chin absently, as if to check if it was still on. "Yeah, I'll see you tonight."

* * *

He went back and forth over picking her up at her tent over the course of the afternoon, but by the time night was falling and he was dressed, he found himself heading that way without too much thought. He slowed as he approached it, then sighed and reached out to rap on the tent pole. 

Kat had told Debbie that Bucky had made plans to hang around at the bar that night, and Debbie had practically yanked her into their tent and thrust a red dress into her arms that she'd then explained she'd picked up in the last town for special occasions of her own. While Kat had tried to explain that this was not, in fact, a special occasion, her protests fell on willfully deaf ears. Debbie had not had the opportunity to dress up someone in far too long, she said forcefully, with her hands gripping Kat's shoulders, and "-Dammit, Kat, I'm not passing up this one!" 

So when Kat yanked open the tent flap ready to scold Debbie for coming back _again_ to adjust something, her hair was pinned perfectly, her makeup was applied perfectly, and her red dress was as perfect as you were going to get in the back woods of Germany. "Oh, fuck- Hey, Barnes, sorry, I was about to bite Debbie's head off. I get the pleasure of you as a chauffeur this evening?" 

He was startled into silence for a moment, looking her over. It had been... fuck... How long? Since he'd seen a girl dressed up? He felt suddenly shabby in his old blue canvas jacket he hadn't bothered to change out of, and adjusted it slightly, before straightening and giving her a smile. "That was the idea. You look fantastic."

"Thanks," she chuckled, ducking fully out of the tent. "Debbie was like a tornado. She seems to have missed being able to doll up her friends," she added, smoothing down the hem of her dress. "I really gotta stop before I get as hammered as I was last time - I'm _pretty_ sure she'll kill me if I rip this thing." 

He laughed. "Probably," he agreed, offering her his arm. "Wasn't the plan to fend _off_ Falsworth?" They started walking toward where groups of personnel were loading into jeeps. 

Her cheeks had a faint pink-ish tone to them as she answered, "Debbie may be under the impression that you asked me out for a date, I think. I wasn't sure how to tell her that it wasn't. It's nice to dress up for once, anyway, I haven't been able nearly since I signed up." 

"Oh, right," he said, nodding a little and glancing over at her. "It's not, then?" He walked over to a waiting jeep, digging the 'requisitioned' keys out of his pocket.

She looked over at him as if she was expecting him to break out into a knowing laugh at any moment, and looked rightfully confused when he didn't. "Well, _I_ don't know. Is it?" 

He shrugged, helping her up into her seat before walking around to the driver's side and climbing in. "I was thinking maybe, but that's up to you, I think, isn't it?" He started the jeep up, and pulled out onto the road. 

She settled in, though she didn't know what to say for a moment. _Yes, of course,_ she wanted to answer, but there was a very obvious reason that this _wasn't_ a date, and she wasn't sure how to approach it. Finally, as the moment wore on and started becoming more awkward, she took a deep breath and bit the bullet and went for the direct approach. "I thought that you... weren't... uh, interested, I guess?" She got out, glancing over at him to gauge his reaction. 

He glanced over at her, then back to the road. "Because of Steve?" he asked as they exited the smaller dirt road they were camped near and hit the paved road into town. 

"Well, yeah," she shrugged a little, looking over at him with slightly worried green eyes. She didn't want to mess this up. "I thought that you guys were... I don't know, a thing, at the very least?"

He shrugged. "We are and we aren't. He's the one that suggested I take you out." He looked over at her briefly, trying to gauge her reaction, but quickly returned his eyes to the road. 

"Oh," was all she said for a minute, her face one of mild, benign surprise. This was never a situation she would have thought to prepare for, certainly, but that didn't make it bad, or wrong. "Well," she said, finally, as the village came into view around a bushy corner, "As long as everyone's happy." She shrugged, as if it was nothing, and the smile came back to her lips. "I guess Falsworth _is_ missing out. You've got yourself a date, Barnes." 

He glanced over at her with a slight grin. "Good. I'm glad." He was trying to be, anyway. At the moment the best he could manage was a sort of distant feeling of being pleased with himself.

They pulled into a spot near the rest of the camp's vehicles, and she let him open the door for her and help her out again, and turned as Dr. Herman shouted her name from across the small gravel lot. 

"Katherine!" He said again, wading closer through the throng, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly until he got closer. 

At which point she asked, "What? If you lost your book again I don't know how I'm going to help you while we're here!" He shook his head, though his eyes strayed to Bucky briefly, registering brief surprise, before landing back at his employee, and he seemed to think better of what he was going to say.

"Ah, it's nothing, nevermind," he waved off, and she gave him a roll of the eyes that he always let her get away with. "Go - have fun. Not as much fun as the other night, but fun," he continued, with a finger pointed at her chin, and disappeared again into the throng before she could answer. She turned back to Barnes, rolling her eyes again. 

"Brilliant surgeon, but damn does the man lose his books like it's goin' out of style. He's nice to us, though, which I wouldn't trade for anything except a better surgeon - luckily, he's got both under control," she said conspiratorially, her smile directed back up at Barnes again. 

He smirked. "Yeah, he seems a good sort. Couple of the fellas say he has a steady hand, which they're pleased about. Haven't had the pleasure, personally, but no offense, I hope I never do." They walked in through the door of the bar and were met with a wall of noise and light and laughter. Bucky tensed slightly but didn’t slow, just headed toward the bar proper.

She made a noise of agreement and then fell silent as the noise hit them, glancing over at Bucky as he led her through the crowd, a tension about him that he'd had the time he was shot. Like when she'd mentioned shellshock. She looked away as they reached the bar, smiling at the bartender and letting Bucky order their drinks. She would drink nearly anything these days, and she hadn't been picky in the first place. 

He glanced at her, but when she didn’t speak up he made the safe bet and ordered a couple of lagers, leaning on the scarred wood of the bartop and looking over at her. She was striking, he decided. She didn't look like his usual... anything. He wouldn't have picked her out of a crowd. But now that he had seen her, he found it difficult to stop following the line of her jaw, the crest of her cheekbone. Her face interested him, drew him in, guiding his eye. He realized he'd been staring too long and turned back to the bar gratefully as the bartender brought over their beers. 

She kept her attention on the surrounding bar while he looked at her; she didn't have the confidence to look right back at him. When he looked away again she needlessly straightened the hem of her dress and took the offered pint with a smile. "Thanks. You know, I actually like this European beer better than the stuff at home? Is that strange?"

He shook his head a little, smiling. "No. It's stronger, I think. I like it better too. Do you want to sit somewhere, or stay here?"

She looked around at the pressing crowd and then past them, and jerked her chin towards the back corner. "I think I see a couple of seats in the corner over there. You game?"

"Lead the way," he agreed, relieved. He liked corners. There was no one to your back, and you could see most of the room. That particular corner had a line on the door as well, which he liked even better.

She nodded, tucked her lager in close, and then started forging through the crowd, apologizing halfway through to a pained Jones for stepping on his feet so hard, and then they finally broke through the throng and she sank into one of the old little wooden chairs and set her pint on the table. "There, that's quieter. Satisfactory for you?"

He sat across from her and nodded a little. "I appreciate it more than you know." He sipped at his beer, turning for a moment to look out at the room. Time was he would have been out there eager to dance and drink with the rest of them. It seemed foreign to him now. 

She could imagine, judging by his past, but she just gave him a small smile and said nothing for a minute, taking a big swig of her drink. "So," she said finally, "Tell me about home, Barnes. I've never been to the Big Apple; not yet, at least. What's city livin' like?"

He smiled a little and leaned back. "I miss it. Out here is too... open. In the city you can see everything that's going on around you in detail. The landscape is predictable, so you can focus on the people more. Everyone is so close together, all different backgrounds, you can get a hundred perspectives on something without even trying." He sipped his beer. "What about the country life?"

"Not too different from tromping around in the middle of nowhere forests in Europe, except the food and the beds are a lot better," she chuckled, and shrugged a little. "I miss _my_ woods, though. And having neighbors that you can relax around. Occasionally I even miss the chores."

He laughed at that. "You don't have enough work to do here? Don't let Herman hear you say that. He'll make sure you have plenty." 

"It's not the amount, it's the subject," she chuckled, though she looked a little sad. "In the 107th, and before, when we were actually close to active combat on a regular basis, I.. Well," she shrugged with a rueful smile. "A lot of the young men I meet die. I miss things being a little less life and death, I suppose."

He nodded in agreement at that. "Yeah... I don't think anyone would disagree with you." he sighed softly, but then took a long sip of his beer and the melancholy was gone, back to stony amusement as he regarded the room. Someone started up a loud, blaring tune on a radio, and he watched as people shoved tables aside to make an impromptu dance floor. 

She smirked slightly as the crowd cleared up the floor, locals and Commandos and the medical team all working together for the chance to have a little fun. Dernier and Sawyer were doing some quick translations whenever a villager couldn't think of the word in English or vice-versa, though Juniper looked to be doggedly trying to get a village girl to dance without knowing a lick of German. She pointed him out to Bucky with a chuckle. "You think he's got a chance?" 

"Yes, actually," he said with a small laugh. "He's charming, and she can't understand enough to know he's an idiot."

She laughed heartily, nodding in agreement. "You're right, he's actually got an advantage like this. He can get by on his pretty face without his big mouth getting in the way for once. You know, most of you fellas have awfully big mouths, you know that? Rogers nearly swallowed his boot the night he drove me home. Really amusing," she chuckled, though she felt it went without saying that Bucky did not appear to have that problem. He seemed to have a direct line to blush control in her cheeks. Rogers did, too, if she was being honest, but it was a different kind of blushing. Without really trying to, her mind landed on the information that she'd received earlier: Steve had set this date up. _Date._ She wasn't sure what his game was, but at the moment she was willing to enjoy herself a little. 

"We're big brash boys," he said, standing up. "Rowdy and belligerent, the whole nine." He offered her a hand up. "Feel like dancing?"

She took a big gulp of her beer and then stood in a hurry, hand finding his, grinning at the chance to dance with him again; the last time had been very nice during the parts she hadn't been embarrassed during. "Only so long as you make me look as good of a dancer as last time. Deal?"

"Me? I thought you were doing the dancing. I was just following along," he protested, pulling her out onto the floor with a smile. 

"Flatterer," she rolled her eyes, but felt the slightest bit of warmth in her cheeks anyway, and fell easily into step with him. She was grateful for Falsworth's manic need to dance, now, though; she was back in practice, and didn't feel like she was slowing down Bucky like last time. 

He saw Falsworth heading toward them as they hit the floor: he stuttered to a stop when he saw Bucky, considering for a moment. Then he turned away, though Bucky doubted it was a permanent retreat. The music shifted up a pace and he returned his attention to Kat. "So are there a lot of dances out in the country?"

Her smile grew into a grin. "Oh, Barnes, what else do you think we have to occupy ourselves? Yeah, there's a _lot_ of dances in the country. Sure, I guess there's the radio to listen to, or books to read, but everyone's so far from their neighbors that a weekly visit to the dance hall is almost a social requirement. Missing a week to the flu or forgotten chores caused some tears a few times as a teenager, believe you me. What about the city? My friend Lucy went to NYC once, and came back showing everybody who would look the blisters on her feet from dancing, said that there was a hall on every corner. Not that I _believe_ that bit, but," she shrugged, still smiling from ear to ear. 

"She's more or less right," he said with a chuckle. "Within a five minute walk of each other at the most. They're all over. All sorts. Real fancy places, and places with nice restaurants, and dives with terrible bars. The works." He spun her out and back into him, giving her a small grin.

"I've never been to a fancy restaurant before," she chuckled, a little breathlessly, half of her attention on her footwork, "Or a dive bar. Passed them on trips to Rochester, but could only see in as we walked past. One's beyond my means and the other's not fit for ladies, as my Dad would say," she continued, and then her smile grew a little more amused. "Oh, my dad would _hate_ you, Barnes. Respect you, maybe, but boy would he be steamed about ya." 

"Oh?" he asked, lifting her into a spin and setting her down again, her skirt fanning out about them. "Why's that?"

"My dad doesn't like any smooth-talkin' boys," she replied, following his every lead with sure footing. "And he likes to be able to scare 'em. I don't think he could scare you, though." 

"Hard to do that nowadays," he agreed with a nod. "As for smooth-talking... I can't contest that. He'd like Steve just fine, though."

"Sure, but I get the feeling he wouldn't scare Steve much, either," she smiled, glancing over her shoulder as they brushed by someone else. 

"True." He looked up to see Falsworth wading through the crowd, and hid a sigh as he was tapped politely but firmly on the shoulder. 

"Mind if I cut in?" 

"Yes." He spun them away into the crowd before Falsworth could respond, and smirked a little. "I think he likes you."

"Oh, dear, I sure hope not," she laughed, waving genially at Falsworth before he disappeared again in the throng, "I _really_ can't come home with a British man about to hit his thirties at my age - that one my _Ma_ would get upset about. Settling down in Britain? She'd have my hide!" 

"You don't really strike me as the type to settle down," he pointed out, his eyes on the room around them for a moment as he gauged the flow of the dance. "Someone who does as well as you do in the field... Can't see you being a housewife."

She sighed slightly, though was still smiling, doing her best to maintain her good mood. "Therein lies the problem, doesn't it? Once the war is over, what do I do with myself, right? Get married to one of the boys from my hometown? Fine, maybe, if they've seen action. I don't know if I would have much in common with anybody who stayed behind in the factories. But even then, I give up the job, right?" She sighed again, shaking her head. "I don't know what I'm gonna do, Barnes, I really don't." 

He shrugged. "Eh. Steve and I 'll make sure you don't end up anywhere too horrific. Maybe you could come see New York or something." The music changed over and he slowed, taking a slow breath. "Beer break?"

"Yeah, please," she agreed, taking in a steadying breath after all the dancing and the sudden foray into territories she tried not to think about too often. He led her back to their corner, weaving in and out between people, and when she sank into the seat she was relieved to get the weight off her feet. Debbie's shoes pinched, just a little. "You know," she said as he sat across from her, "I would like to see New York City, at least the once. Won't turn down an invitation for a guided tour, certainly." 

He nodded. "Soon as we're out of this mess," he offered. "Go see your family, then after a while come visit us. Or if you'd like a chance to... I don't know. If you want a buffer between... this.." He motioned around, referring to far more than the dance hall- "And them, then visit New York first."

She felt her chest warm at the offer, and gave him a soft, grateful smile. "I'll see you in the Big Apple, then. Not sure in what order I'll get there, but... Thanks, Bucky. If you ever had the hankering to see a little slice of country life, you and Steve can come out and we'll put you to work for a few days, huh?"

"You make it sound so appealing," he ribbed, finishing off his beer and nodding to her near-empty tumbler. "Want another one?"

"Don't worry, we'll make it up to you with my Ma's food. And yeah, that'd be great, thanks," she nodded cheerfully. 

"Now you're talking," he agreed, standing and clearing their glasses, heading to the bar to get them refilled.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Questions? ....Concerns???  
> Tell us how you feel, guys! We love it! 
> 
> As for Kat's edit here - her hair probably wouldn't be this long considering army regulations for women's hair - I found a neat diagram if anyone wants to see it, but basically while on duty nurses could not have their hair touching their collars. The more you know! 
> 
> Up next: What to do when Bucky scars? The answer may surprise you!


	5. Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for tuning in again! A little action this time!

Two hours later he waded outside, leaning against the wall of the bar in the cool air and relative silence with a sigh of relief. Kat had gone to powder her nose, and he'd told her he'd be outside. They weren't the first to leave. About half the jeeps had gone, and the party was ramping up for those still left. 

She came out a minute or two after him, a little unsteady on drunk feet, looking around in the dark for his shape with squinted eyes. "Bucky? You out here? Can't see a darned thing yet, too bright inside." 

He stepped out of the shadows beside her. "Here. Ready to go?" 

She jumped a little and giggled in response, then nodded. "Yep. You okay to drive after those beers?" 

He nodded. "Yep, not enough to give me trouble, don't worry." He offered her his arm. 

She took his arm gratefully, still keen on her earlier mission of not ruining Debbie's dress. Avoiding twisting an ankle would also be nice, now that she was thinking of it. "Good, good, cause it's enough to give me the beginning of the spins," she chuckled, apparently not particularly perturbed. "Shall we?" 

He smiled, heading for the jeep at an easy pace. "You seem like you had a good time. Ready for the next move?"

"The next move?" She asked, following along at his side. "And I did. I'm sure my feet will regret all the dancing tomorrow, but it was worth it." 

"You know. Pack camp, next stop, that whole thing." He helped her up into the jeep and walked around to the driver's side. 

"Ohhh, the next _move,"_ she repeated, and nodded. "Yeah, I am. Used to it by now. Even in the 107th we moved more often than civilian-me would have liked," she said as he climbed in, looking over at him with slightly drink-blurred eyes that were finally adjusting to the dark. He looked even better when she was tipsy, she admitted to herself. How had she managed to get a date with this guy? 

He glanced over at her as he started up the jeep, and smiled just a little to see her moon-eyed. "Alright there, soldier?" he said with a grin as he turned eyes forward and started down the road. 

Kat blushed to be caught staring and was glad to be in the dark, where it would be much harder to see the red flush her cheeks, but giggled slightly anyway. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just a bit sauced," she replied. She fought the urge to rub at her makeup-laden eyes - she was starting to feel that late-night itch. "Hey, I haven't had the chance to ask - and please don't be mad for me asking - but did you scar?" 

What she was referring to didn't need to be explicitly said. They both knew she meant the bullet wound. 

He was quiet for a minute, relying on the turns of the town’s streets as cover, but once they were on the open road back to camp he ran out of excuses. "Not too badly." 

Her stomach sank slightly. "But you did scar." It wasn't a question. 

She didn't speak for a minute, drunk mind chugging along as it tried to come up with a passable solution to the problem. "Does Steve know?" 

He drummed a finger against the smooth metal of the steering wheel. "Not yet." They hit a pothole and he muttered a mild curse, shifting toward a smoother part of the road. 

She nodded slightly and was silent for another minute. Then; "Shouldn't he?"

He slowed the jeep down as a deer flitted across the road a few hundred yards ahead, tacitly ignoring the fact that it was a good ways into the darkness beyond the reach of the headlights. "Probably. But he'll worry. He does that."

"He'll worry more if something happens to you," she pointed out gently, her own eyes incapable of seeing what he'd slowed for, but a tad too sauced to think twice on it. "You sure he isn't already worried?" 

"Of course he's already worried. Like I said, he does that." He smiled a little as he turned at the entrance to the camp and drove into the jeep parking area. 

She snorted in amusement. "Alright, point taken. Either way... Nobody noticed your tiny limp for the first few days, so if anybody sees it and asks questions, it would be insane to assume you were shot recently. I think I overreacted when I first saw it. It should be an easy secret to keep," she said, brushing a strand of loose hair out of her eyes as the jeep came to a stop, and she twisted in her seat a little to look at him, eyes bright in the moonlight. "Have you tested your strength yet? I hate to admit it but I've been burning with professional curiosity about it all. Dr. Herman too, about Rogers, but I've kept him from interfering with the Cap's day, despite my own desire to see if Steve really can lift a motorcycle," she added, smiling as if none of this was that big of a deal. Alcohol was a wonderful thing. 

"No," he said, shaking his head. "But there isn't really a good place to test it without risking someone seeing me."

She sighed with the disappointment, but nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense. Still - do you hear things any better? Smell better? See better?"

He sighed, glancing at her again. "See better, yes. I don't know about smell. Hearing... probably. I haven't paid much attention." He turned the jeep off, the headlights dimming slowly, and got out, walking around to open her door.

"Thanks," she said quietly as he helped her out, and smiled gently up at him in the dark. "And thanks for the evening, Barnes. It was a nice change of pace."

He nodded, considering her for a moment, still holding her hand, and thinking through all of the girls and all of the nights before the war. Then he focused back on her, and smiled. "Yeah, it was." He raised an eyebrow. "So, tell me, Ms. Lewis. You kiss on the first date? Or are you a second-date kind of gal?"

She blushed like a hot air balloon's burner, which is to say she lit up like a flamethrower, and she struggled to keep her face straight, a smile insistently tugging at the corners of her lips. "Used to be more of a third-date kinda gal. These days, well, that depends, Barnes," she said as coolly as possible while that smile tried to crawl its way onto her face. "You a good kisser?" 

His smile widened at her blush, and he bent down, deciding that silence was a decent enough answer as he kissed her. He was gentle, polite, far more than he would have ever been before the war, and he pulled away more quickly, too, but it was a kiss and that was a start. Steve could lay off for a while. "You tell me. Have a good night, Ms. Lewis." He kissed her hand and released it, tipping his hat and turning to head off down the rows of tents. 

His lips pressed to hers and her brain short-circuited for the moment. Then he pulled away, and gave his nightly farewell, and she couldn't help but giggle a little to herself as she watched him walk away for a moment before turning and heading back to her own tent.

* * *

Bucky went to bed with the firm knowledge that, while that had been enjoyable, there was no real need to repeat the situation.

Still, the next time they had leave, he found himself sitting next to her at a table, talking over beers. It became more and more common. At mess, between missions, occasionally on them, while marching or driving... He just ended up sitting next to her. She gave him silence when he needed it, and he gave her conversation when she needed it. 

* * *

Steve was, once again, faced with the familiar feeling of losing Bucky's time to a dame for a while. He'd experienced the same thing many times throughout the years, but this was the first time he only had himself to blame for the loss. He watched them talk during their dances, and while he treasured the smiles she often brought to Bucky's face, he wished he could do the same for him. But that was why he'd pushed Bucky into it, hadn't he? Steve sighed. He was sitting on his cot in his tent, elbows on his knees, doing the Irish Catholic thing and feeling guilty for his jealousy. This was what he had wanted, wasn't it? Right now it didn't feel like it was what he wanted at all. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the tent pole. "Rogers! What's the holdup?" came Bucky's voice. A moment later he stuck his head in through the tent flap. "We move out in fifteen minutes, Steve. You get lost in your knitting or something?"

Steve cracked a smirk, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, sure did. I'm coming, I'm coming, don't worry," he said, standing to prove his cooperation. "Let's tear this down and get going." 

“Who says I'm helping? You're the one waiting around for Christ to come back," Bucky retorted, though he bent to start pulling tent spikes.

"Ha ha," he said sarcastically, joining in on the work.

* * *

The camp move did not go as smoothly as all the others. 

As usual, they packed all their gear in the trucks that morning and set out in the afternoon, a convoy of trucks and jeeps in a line. Steve habitually rode in the front, where trouble was most likely to be run into first, and Dum Dum Dugan took up the rear with the medical team, where trouble was less likely to be had, but still required a protector. There was no warning today - Steve had been as alert as ever, but they were so well hidden in the underbrush that the convoy made it all the way into the trap before it was sprung. 

Men lunged from the forest and suddenly there was a hail of bullets raining on the convoy, and then everything happened very, very fast. Someone up front slammed on the brakes, and the whole squadron began fighting back with a great uproarious yell, and Dugan pulled his rifle off his back and pointed at something on the passenger-side door, where Kat was sitting, and shouted something she was too afraid to catch. Still, her eyes followed his hand, and landed on the shotgun she had been given the same day she had discovered Bucky and Steve locked at the lips. _Oh,_ she thought, and flinched as a bullet pinged off the door of the jeep. The rushing in her ears faded, and she quickly leaned down to unstrap the shotgun from the door, checking the chamber and finding it loaded. Another bullet - several, actually - hit the vehicle and Debbie let out a strangled sort of yelp of surprise. Kat was too afraid to make noise. 

At the front of the convoy, Steve had catapulted out of his ride to crash into the attackers on the side of the road, Falsworth and Dernier covering him from the trucks. He had just disabled a fifth opponent when his brain helpfully reminded him that this ambush had come from the rear - where the vulnerable medical team rode. He could trust the rest of the men to take care of themselves, even in a hail fire like this, but that wasn’t what the medical team had signed up for. He went barrelling off towards the back without hesitation, shield held between him and the side of the road he was exposed to without cover from the convoy. 

In the rear, Dugan had jumped out of the jeep to take up a position beside it, on the left, where he had cleared the underbrush of enemies, and was shooting around the hood of the jeep, partially in an effort to draw fire away from the cab of the vehicle, where Katherine, Debbie, and Dr. Herman were. Dugan, unfortunately, did not have ESP or psychic abilities, or even x-ray vision, as all of these things would have prevented the Hydra agent from swiftly sneaking up to the other side of the jeep and yanking the back door open. Debbie was in his grasp before Dugan even noticed the door was open - it was her scream of alarm that clued him in, and he swore, standing to yell, “Hey! Drop the girl!” before he had to drop behind cover as another shower of bullets came his way. The Nazi shouted at Debbie as she fought against his grip, dragging her further away from the jeep. Dugan swore again, adjusting his grip on his rifle as he prepared to do something really fucking stupid- 

The passenger door of the jeep opened swiftly, and Katherine used it as cover as she aimed the shotgun through the open window, and Dugan heard her shout, “Debbie! DROP!” 

Bucky had been moving for the back of the convoy almost immediately, jumping from truck to truck in an effort to avoid the skirmishes on the ground, ducking behind the walls of jeep beds for cover before standing to return fire and jump again. The ambush had waited until they had passed, which meant they knew that Steve rode forward, and they knew the rear of the convoy was more vulnerable. He didn't need to think about it long. 

There were a few screams as people were shot, and a lot of thuds without screams that he did his best not to think about as he cleared the last of the uncovered jeeps and jumped to the ground to move down the side of the three supply carriers. A bullet hit the tire next to him and he dove forward, rolling up already looking for the shooter. He found him and returned fire. The man dropped, and he didn't take the time to confirm the kill, just moved on. 

He heard Steve coming before he saw him, the tell-tale _ping_ of bullets against vibranium getting closer. He rounded the corner of the last supply wagon, and saw the flash of red on black that he'd grown to hate so fiercely. The issue was the body between him and the patch- Debbie, struggling and white with fear, a pistol against her head. Then he heard Kat shout, and glanced over out of surprise as Debbie went limp and the bastard from Hydra fumbled her. 

Steve came barrelling onto the scene just in time to see a Hydra agent be blown backwards in a mist of blood. “Dugan?” Steve called, and saw the man stand at the other side of the jeep. Not at an angle that he would have been able to shoot that man, and the rifle in his hands was clearly not the weapon that had completed that particular killing. His eyes went to movement at the passenger door, and found Kat standing there with a shotgun still leveled in that direction, looking like she was going to throw up. Steve sprang into action again, running forward, past Kat, covering Debbie as a hail of return fire came raining down on them, and then he heard Kat yelp behind him and swore, looking behind him to see she'd disappeared from the window, and his stomach twisted unpleasantly. 

Bucky vaulted up into the jeep through the window, turning to block it as he returned fire, before shifting to the side and looking for Kat. She was sitting on the bed of the back cab with Dr. Herman, who had closed the back doors and was trying to figure out where the blood rapidly staining Kat's left shoulder was coming from. "Kat, you alright?"

She had a hand pressed to the round of her shoulder, teeth displayed in a pained grimace. "Yeah, I- I think so," she managed, her red hair and the blood on her shoulder standing out in sharp relief to the pale pallor of her skin. "Hurts like nothing fucking else, but I think it's just a graze. I dropped the gun. Is Debbie okay?" 

"Steve's got her. She should be fine," he said, ducking down slightly further as a bullet ripped into the metal a few inches from his head, leaving a deep dent. He knelt up and returned fire through the window, felling two attackers before taking cover again. Dr. Herman pulled Kat's hand away and cut into the cloth of her dress, peeling it back to take a closer look. "Just a graze," he confirmed, pressing gauze to the top of her shoulder. "It's deep, but you'll be fine."

"Wonderful," she said, voice very strained, though if she was being honest, the pain was a nice distraction to the gunfire happening outside. A moment later the door opened again and Debbie was escorted inside by Steve, who was holding his shield behind himself to give them both cover. His eyes landed on Bucky first, and then Kat. 

"Everyone alright in here? You okay, Ms. Lewis?" 

"Just peachy, Cap, don't worry 'bout me," she said, forcefully cheerfully. 

Debbie let out a small noise of concern, but then seemed to shake herself and moved over quickly next to Dr. Herman, starting to hand him what he needed. Bucky looked over at Steve. "Ready to go shut this party down?"

Steve's jaw set, and he nodded once and then turned and re-entered the fray. 

Hydra didn't stand a fucking chance. 

Bucky followed out after him, turning to shut the truck doors behind him. Then he adjusted his rifle, and followed in Steve's shadow, trusting the shield. 

* * *

In the end, it took another five minutes before they dropped the last of their enemies, and another ten before they were _sure_ it was the last of them, given the thick underbrush. Wounded men either walked or were carried to the cargo wagons, and the medical corps began working quickly to bandage wounds and extract bullets.

Kat lasted the duration of the bandaging of her small wound before she was up again, insistent on treating the soldiers who had been wounded, snapping at Dr. Herman when he suggested she take a break. She transferred to the largest truck to help the worst of the wounded men. The convoy started up again - now it was imperative they put some space between this ambush and themselves. 

Thankfully, they arrived at the next campsite without further incident, though they now had the added complication of dealing with wounded men. The infirmary tent was prioritized, and then everything else, and when Steve was done writing a report to Colonel Phillips about the ambush the infirmary tent was where he found her; still bandaging the less badly injured among the men, Debbie off to the side giving medical pointers to Jones, who had apparently volunteered his hands to help out. His eyes went back to Kat as she worked, leaning his shoulder against the pole of the tent by the entrance as he waited for her to become available. It took her about ten minutes, but finally she looked up his way and her face fell slightly. "Can I help, Rogers?"

"We need to talk, Ms. Lewis," he said simply, and she grimaced a little but nodded, and after a quick look around the tent she nodded to the exit.

"Outside, then."

They walked out of the infirmary tent and away from it a bit, before Steve came to a stop in a quieter part of camp. He came right out with it. "I think you know that I'll need to transfer you back to England with the other wounded men, Ms. Lewis," he began, gentle but firm.

She grit her teeth, but she'd known this was coming. She'd _known._ But hell if she was going without a fucking fight. She crossed her arms over her chest. 

"No." 

Steve sighed. "This isn't an option, Kat. You're going back. The same as everyone else who was wounded." Not quite the same. He was putting her well across the line of triage. But the men were soldiers. She was a nurse. She hadn't signed up to get shot. 

"Uh, no, I'm not, but thank you," she said back stubbornly, looking up at him with hard eyes. "Not everyone who is wounded gets sent back. A few of the boys got grazed; they'll stay. And I'll stay _with_ them."

"They're soldiers, you aren't," he retorted, crossing his arms. "These are _orders_ , Ms. Lewis. They aren't up for debate. You're going back. Once you've recovered we can discuss your assignment."

Kat's self-control was waning, and this was evident by the angry red flush on her cheeks. "I may not be a soldier, Rogers - I may not be a _man,_ either, but I can _handle_ a fucking _bullet graze,_ okay? For fuck's sake, Rogers, I shot a man today! With a fucking _shotgun._ If he survived that I'd be surprised and impressed!" She snarled, arms still crossed, though she was gripping onto her own arms to keep from poking at his chest indignantly. "I didn't sign up to kill anyone, but here I fucking am! Not signing up for it didn't change shit! It _happened._ If you send me back I can't- I can't undo it, Steve," she let out in a shaking breath, having gone from shouting to pleading in a few words. "You can't send me back. I have to be here. I have to be." 

He softened slightly, the tense line of his shoulders bowing just a little. "Go finish what you were doing. I'll think about it," he relented finally, waving her off and turning to walk away. He needed to think.

She turned away without another word and headed back to the tent, fighting back the tears collecting at the bottom of her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy living in ww2 kinda sucks, huh? 
> 
> Thoughts, anyone?


	6. Later, This Will Be Seen As A Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but another will be coming out right after this!

Steve knocked on Bucky's tent pole an hour later, two trays of food balanced on one big hand. He wouldn't admit it, but he was hoping that the food would make this conversation go a little easier. 

"Come in," Bucky called. He was laying on his cot, reading a magazine, but sat up to look when Steve came in. 

He ducked into the tent, food in hand, and nodded when he saw Bucky. "Hey. I brought food." He didn't start yet about Kat. He didn't want to, honestly - he knew Bucky would resist, and the last thing he wanted right now was to get into an argument with his closest friend. If friend was even the right word. 

He shifted over and set the magazine aside. "Smells good for once," he said with a grin. "I'm starving." He reached out to take a tray, and glanced out the tent flap. "Any word? Did we lose anyone?"

"Not to a bullet, no, but a couple of the boys are being sent home," he said, sitting down next to the cot on the floor, balancing his tray in his lap. "No one died. I think the medical team had a lot to do with that. Colonel Phillips chose them well." Steve sighed after a moment, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Buck, I think we should send Kat home, but she's refusing to go. I don't know what to do." 

Bucky looked up from something he assumed was meatloaf, surprised. "Why? I thought she just got grazed?" He shifted to look at Steve, worried. "She alright?"

Steve held up a hand to stay Bucky's rising concern. "She's fine, it was just a graze. But she _shouldn't_ have been grazed. She's a nurse, Buck. That's not what she signed up for." 

Bucky settled slowly, considering that. "You're sending her home because she got near a bullet? She's a combat nurse, Steve. It was bound to happen." 

"It's not just that she got near a bullet," Steve shook his head, sighing, "I saw her have to take a man's life today. That's going to affect her. She's arguing that she has to stay to undo it, but..." Steve ran a hand through his hair, shrugging once. "This is no place for someone to get over their nightmares about killing someone." 

Bucky snorted but held back the slew of comments that suddenly rose up. Instead, he said, "She isn't going to let you ship her out, Steve. She just isn't. You had better get used to the idea."

Steve let his head fall back to look up at the ceiling of the tent like he was questioning God himself. "Has everybody suddenly decided that orders don't count today? _Bucky,_ last I checked, we're all still part of the United States Army, right?" 

"Sure. While we're talking laws, where should I report the... what... Six different names you volunteered under?" Bucky shot back, taking a bite of mashed potatoes. 

Steve's gaze fell from the ceiling to the floor, a grimace settling on his face, and heaved an enormous sigh. He covered his face with one hand, silent for a moment, then dropped it. _Damn it._ Bucky had made a very good point, and in thinking about it for a few extra seconds, he could almost _hear_ Peggy yelling at him for his idiocy with women. "I... Yeah. She can stay." 

How could he do to someone else what he had had to fight so hard to overcome? How could he take away someone else's chance to fight for what they believed in? Hell... Shouldn't he be supporting her? He swore under his breath and without pause stood with his tray. "Come on. We're being idiots. She pulled the trigger on a man today - she shouldn't be anything close to alone." 

"I'm glad you came around so fast," Bucky said, standing too. "I was worried I was going to have to bash it into your thick skull."

"Yeah, I like to think I'm not an idiot too _long,_ just some," he sighed, and ducked out of the tent. "You want to get her something to eat, and I'll go ahead and apologize?" 

"On it," he said with a nod, heading for the mess tent. Steve watched him go, then took a slow breath and headed back toward the medical tent. 

Kat was sitting by the side of one of the less stable men, keeping an eye on his condition, when Steve walked back in. She let out a quiet breath and stood, ignoring him for a moment to head to the back of the tent and ask Debbie to step in for her for a while. Debbie nodded wearily - she looked about as tired as Kat felt - and Kat returned to the front of the tent, gesturing for Steve to step outside. She followed him out and then gave him a tired, grim smile. "Thanks - trying to keep it quiet in there while the boys rest." There were dark bags under her eyes, and more than a few blood stains on her dress and apron - even a small smear on her arm, though that was probably her own. 

"You should be resting," he retorted, nodding to her shoulder. "Graze or no, you bled a lot." He crossed his arms again, gripping the leather shoulder straps of his shield harness. "Bucky suggested that I was being an idiot. I was forced to agree with him. You can stay."

She nodded a little, rubbing a hand across her forehead and onto her hair. It was escaping its bun pretty handily, and with a sigh she reached back and released the wavy red locks the rest of the way - it had already passed the point of regulation anyways. "I would rest, Rogers, believe me, but we're a small team, and until a couple of the boys who are volunteering get back from dinner, we have to keep an eye on some of our wounded." She glanced back at the tent, exhaustion clear in the set of her shoulders. "And thanks. Thank Bucky for me, too, wherever he's holed up." 

"He's bringing food. I'll stand in until the others get back. Sit for a few minutes, alright?" He nodded to a nearby log someone had dragged in as a bench.

On another day, she might have argued that this was her job, not his, but the stresses of the day shoved down the argumentative part of her and she made a noise of acquiescence and took the step over to sink down on the log, resting her elbow on her knee and her head supported by her hand. "Thanks," she said quietly, shutting her eyes as the day came crashing in on her. 

Steve nodded, ducking into the tent. 

Bucky found her there a few minutes later. His own tray was gone, but he held a fresh one, and nudged her toe gently with his. "Hey there. Dinner's served."

She dropped her hand and lifted her face to find him and a platter of food, and she took it with a grateful look. "Hey. Thanks, I appreciate it. You wanna sit?" 

He nodded, handing the plate over and flopping down on the log beside her. "How's the shoulder?"

"Hurts, unsurprisingly," she snorted, starting to dig in to the food with a vengeance. "But I'll be fine. Not the first time I've gotten hurt. Just the first time it happened to be someone else's fault." 

He nodded a little, letting her eat in peace. He wasn't going to bring up the killing yet. Not unless she wanted to. Best to let her eat, and talk about it later. "How many are we sending home?"

"Seven. Four were close, but turned out to be not as serious as we thought. Everyone else got grazed or something else mild," she replied, already halfway through her meal. Down the line of tents came the sound of soldiers talking as they approached, and she let out a breath of relief. "I think that's our volunteers. Means Debbie and I can get some fuckin' sleep in a bit and Steve can go do his Captainly duties, whatever those are." 

"Worrying too much, mostly." He put his elbows on his knees, watching the men chat happily as they approached. "He isn't going to want to stay here long. Not with an ambush that close."

"I don't blame him," she agreed, finishing off the rest of her food and setting the tray down at her feet. "I'm going to have trouble sleeping as it is." 

He nodded, glancing over at her. "How are you doing, by the way?" He nudged her knee with his. "You saved Debbie's life."

She chuckled dryly, rubbing her eyes with one hand. "I guess I did, yeah. Felt necessary in the moment." She scuffed at the dirt with her shoe, looking down, avoiding his eyes. "Only other thing I've ever killed was a chicken, and I didn't like that much either. This was easier, but it... I feel it more."

He nodded just a little. "It'll take some time. It's not easy. Just try to remember that you did the right thing."

She nodded again. The soldiers passed and disappeared into the tent, quieting as they went. "I'll try."

"I'm here if you need someone to talk to." She had to know he would understand. He looked up as Steve came out of the tent. 

"Done eating already? You two still hungry? We're not rationing tonight. People need the food."

She looked up at Steve approached, and smiled but shook her head. "I'm okay, this was enough. Not hungry anymore." She reached out to grasp Bucky's hand for a moment - just a quick, light squeeze. “Just tired.” 

"I'm fine," Bucky said with a shrug. "You should get some sleep. Want us to walk ya home?"

Her eyes went to Steve questioningly as Bucky volunteered them both, once again having a moment's thought as to everyone's place in this strange triangle they had. She felt like she and Bucky were doing pretty well; she liked him, a lot, and while she knew Bucky better she could see herself liking Steve too. And then there was what was between _them._ She tried not to think about it, to not question anything, but she was curious, and she didn't want to go and get her heart broken on accident. "Yeah," she nodded, finally, "Yeah, that'd be nice."

Bucky nodded, and stood, while Steve offered her a hand up. "Do you want to get your bandages changed before you sleep, or do you think you're alright?"

Kat took his offered hand up, and shrugged slightly. "It should be alright until tomorrow. I can do it myself in the morning." She bent to grab her tray off the ground. "We gotta drop this off first, though, if you want Harold to keep feeding me." 

"I'll bring it over later," Bucky said, reaching out to snag it out of her hand. "Sleep. You need it."

Where she normally would have protested, her manners were too weary to make it out of her mouth, so she just nodded and said, "Okay. Thanks. My tent's this way." 

They both nodded, falling into easy step on either side of her, two large goons in dirty uniforms, a buffer between her and the rest of the camp. They got a few strange looks, but most of the men had gotten used to Bucky and Kat spending time together. Adding Steve into the mix didn't raise too many eyebrows. 

They all walked in silence until she stopped at the entrance to her tent and let out a long breath, glancing between the two of them. "Thanks again, guys. And thanks for letting me stay, Steve. Don't know what else I'd do," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest in a self-hug. Questions floated in her throat, questions about why he'd relented, what was between him and Bucky, what was between him and _herself..._ But she spoke none of them, unsure how to bring any of it up, especially here, where someone could hear. 

They both looked at her for a long second, and in that moment she seemed to both of them to be very small. Then Bucky stepped forward and pulled her into a careful hug, tucking her under his chin for a moment. "You did good. Everyone's safe. Get some good sleep."

Her breath hitched a little, but she kept it together, just leaned into him until he let her go again, though her eyes looked a bit glassier than they had a few moments before. "Night, guys," she murmured, and turned and disappeared into her tent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are about to get wacky yall


	7. The First Glimpse: Coverup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HALT! ANOTHER CHAPTER WAS RELEASED TODAY! HAVE YOU READ IT? IF NOT, GO BACK! 
> 
> But uh yeah things are about to take a quick turn

**_1952, June, Belgium_ **

**_S.H.I.E.L.D. Outpost_ **

Peggy walked down the hall as quickly as she could without running, the alarm bells ringing harshly in her ears from the speakers in the ceiling. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor, and she wished not for the first time that she’d been wearing more sensible footwear today. Unfortunately, wishes wouldn’t get her anywhere. 

Her eyes were glued to the door at the end of the bend in the hall - her office, where her things were. Were her _gun_ was. Her neck was prickling with fear the closer she got to the door, the effect of being so close to being armed and yet expecting the worst to happen more and more any moment. But she reached and slipped into the room without a figure stepping out in her way, and she immediately hurried to the gun sitting on her desk, picking it up with a harsh breath of relief, and kicking her impractical heels off. After pulling on the emergency boots tucked under her desk, she turned back towards the door, and froze. There, in the frosted glass of the door, was the silhouette of a person. She dropped into a crouch as silently as she could, behind the desk, a hand going to cover her mouth to stifle her own breathing. 

“Peggy!” She heard from down the hall, and she screwed up her face in frustration, and looked over the edge of the desk. The silhouette, which had appeared to be mid-reach for the door, had twisted, looking back over its shoulder. “Peggy!” She heard again, and this time she could make out that it was Frank, the outpost’s lead agent. He was about to run right into a hostile, and Peggy cursed him for it. Quickly she shifted up, bracing her gun on the desk, her finger moving to the trigger, but the silhouette’s head jerked towards the door like it’d heard something, and then a second later reeled away, and the bullet shattered the glass door and embedded itself in the ceiling down the hall. 

“Shit,” Peggy hissed, and then the figure rose back into view, and this time, Peggy could see exactly what they looked like. It was a woman, her startling red hair pulled into a braid behind her head, body clad in a black tactical suit, her sharp face uncovered. Peggy’s eyes went wide, her hands tight on the gun but unmoving, and the body of Katherine Lewis stared back, her green eyes unrecognizing. Unremembering. Unfrightened at a near miss with a weapon. Kat’s hand came up to grab the edge of the shattered glass and Peggy watched in shock as she simply shoved her gloved hand through the remaining glass and down to grab the wood of the door, the fabric of the glove shredding under the rough treatment to show slivers of silver. Her fingers made contact with the door, and then she ripped a chunk out of it with an explosion of wood splinters. This woman did not recognize her. Peggy scrambled backwards, raising her gun again, and Katherine came barreling through the door with an almighty crash, and two gunshots rang out at once.

Kat staggered to the left, her hand coming out to stop her before she ran her shoulder into the wall, and Peggy shot again, only to duck as Kat’s right arm came flying up to block the bullet, and it ricocheted a foot away from Peggy’s head. “Peggy! I’m covering you, go!” came Frank’s voice from outside of the office, and through the dust of a door having been destroyed a few moments prior, she could see him standing there, a gun trained on Kat’s back. There was just the matter of getting past her without being grabbed by that _arm_. Whatever else it could do, she didn’t want to find out. Peggy edged to the other side of the office, her gun still trained on Kat, her breaths coming hard. Kat was staring right back, teeth gritted into a grimace, and a glance downwards confirmed that both Peggy and Frank had hit their target square on. Two dark, wet spots were forming on the front of the left side of Kat’s torso. Location-wise, they weren’t far from some very risky territory, but it looked like she only had a few moments before Kat was recovered enough to make another move. 

She lunged towards the doorway, and flinched downwards as Kat exploded off the wall towards her and then staggered back at another gunshot, her fingertips brushing Peggy’s back, and then she was out and she and Frank were running. They had a five second head start before they heard Kat’s footsteps come thundering after them, and Peggy had a split second moment where she wondered if this was what a rabbit felt like right before it was grabbed by a dog, and then something a few rooms away exploded, and all three people in the hallway were sent flying into the right side of the hallway, entire pieces of the left wall giving up the ghost to the explosion. 

Peggy only registered all of this very briefly before something hit her head.

She woke up to a horrendous headache what could only be a few moments later, a roaring in her ears, her eyes picking up the scene blurrily. She pushed herself up off the floor a little, closing her eyes for a moment as something in her side told her it was very much in pain, and opened them again to see Kat staggering away down the hall, boots dragging a little, a hand clutching the side of her head, blood on the floor behind her in a drip trail. The world went dark again. 

This time, she woke up in a hospital bed. She blinked, looking around in confusion, trying to piece together how she’d gotten here. It looked to be a Belgium hospital (or that was her hunch, anyway). She wondered where Frank was.

 _Kat._ Kat was alive? It had been nearly ten years since her disappearance in Germany, and she hadn’t looked a day past the 25 she’d been when she had dropped off the face of the earth. Something like dread sunk into Peggy’s stomach.

* * *

**_Later_ **

Frank was dead, she found out. Killed in the blast. 

She wrote the report as soon as the nurses let her sit up to do it, describing the encounter and strongly recommending following up on Katherine Lewis’ cold case.

That was not the first recommendation she made on the subject, but when the bomb analysis came back and the evidence said it was an inside job, Frank was blamed for the blast, and the doctors and her superiors told her that there was no evidence of a woman matching Kat’s description on the premises, and that she’d hit her head so hard, you see.... 

When she remembered this, sixty years in the future, after the fall of the Triskelion, she knew that it had been a coverup. The Hydra agents within S.H.I.E.L.D. had tried to kill her with a brainwashed Katherine Lewis. They had failed, and to cover their tracks, they had not tried in the same way again. Hydra was, after all, supposed to be gone and dead. 

Maybe, with Steve reunited with Bucky and Kat, it _would_ be one day.

Peggy folded up the piece of paper she’d scribbled her reminder on and placed it in her front dress pocket, and laid back down in bed. After a minute of staring up into the darkness, old memories lingering at the surface, she shut her eyes and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Missing the 1940s? Don't worry, we'll get back to them! But it was time for some SPICE! Let us know what you think, pretty please? Thanks for reading!!


	8. Glimpse: Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the formatting on this one guys - tried to make 400 words readable and ao3 hates me now! Ah, the joys of formatting. This is another short glimpse but will not be the only chapter coming out tonight!

**_1952, July, Ukraine:_ **

Two men stood watch in a dark hall, leaning against the dirty brick walls and passing a cigarette back and forth. The first, the taller one, spoke.

_“Где ты ее нашел?”_

_[Where did you find her?]_

The second one, the shorter one, chuckled and responded.

_“Она попыталась подняться на корабль, ее узнал капитан, с которым мы работаем. Мы послали Актив, чтобы забрать ее.”_

_[She tried to board a ship, got recognized by the captain, who we work with. We sent The Asset to pick her up.]_

_“_ _Хорошо, что она выглядит так, как она выглядит, а?”_

_[Good thing she looks like she looks, then, huh?]_

The taller one let out a noise of complaint as his companion leaned over to smack him upside the head.

_“Заткнись, не думай об этом так. Не позволяйте Мише слышать, как вы так говорите, вас застрелят, так что никого не должно волновать, что вы, черт возьми, промахнетесь, потому что считаете оружие сексуальным.”_

_[Shut up, don't think of it that way. Don't let Misha hear you talk like that, you'll get shot so no one has to worry you're going to fucking slip up because you think the weapon is sexy.]_

_“Хорошо, хорошо, что угодно. Они узнали, почему она не вернулась?”_

_[Fine, fine, whatever. Did they find out why she didn't come back?]_

_“Миссия по уничтожению Картера провалилась. Бомба, которая должна была покрыть все это, взорвалась рано. Они думают, что он получил травму головы. В любом случае, она не завершила миссию из-за этого и уклонилась от нас на целый месяц.”_

_[The mission to take out Carter failed. The bomb that was supposed to cover the whole thing up went off early. They think it received head trauma. Either way, it didn't complete the mission because of it, and it dodged us a full month.]_

Something slammed hard into the metal door behind them, and both of the men jumped, the taller dropping the cigarette with a muttered swear. His shorter companion looked at him dryly, and then returned his attention to the door, apparently checking it for structural damage. Then he looked back at the taller man and jerked his head towards the end of the hallway. 

_“Иди скажи Мише, что она не спит, и скажи ему, что они подготовили кресло, пока его не было.”_

_[Go tell Misha it's awake, and tell him they prepared the Chair while he was away.]_

The taller man nodded and turned to jog off down the hall, and the shorter man jumped again as the door shuddered under the force of something hitting it once more, and he adjusted his grip on his rifle. 


	9. Sealing the Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HALT! Another chapter was released today! Have you read it? 
> 
> First NSFW chapter y'all!

Two days and an uneventful camp move later Kat pushed out of her tent in the middle of the night, a whirling cloud leaving her mouth at her heavy exhale. She wrapped her blanket around her a little tighter and started off towards the edge of camp, forcing her breathing to stay controlled, fighting off the fear and panic her dream had caused until she was further away from the sleeping ears of her friends and allies. 

She reached the edge of the line of tents and stepped out towards the edge of the light and sank onto a convenient tree stump, and let her head fall into her hands, and she let the tears fall for the first time since she'd killed that man. Debbie had broken that same night - had had that struggle to accept her own mortality, to confront what could have been had Kat not acted so quickly, and Kat had kept herself together to help. Debbie had asked, tearfully, how she could stay so strong, how she could she not cry, and Kat had managed a slightly sad smile, and replied, _"I'll get to it."_

Bucky heard the crunch of snow long before he saw the source. He walked quietly to where he had heard it stop, uncertain of who he would find outside the camp this time of night. He stopped when he saw her, watching her- details perfectly clear in the darkness- as she shook quietly, hunched forward over her legs. He hesitated for a minute, then said quietly, "Kat... Bad night?"

She jumped, body snapping upright from her hunch, and her eyes landed on him. She rubbed furiously at her eyes for a moment, as if she could get rid of the evidence of her tears, and then reality hit her and her hands fell into her lap. "Yeah," she finally agreed, rasping slightly, and pulled her blanket tighter. "You?"

He shrugged a little. "Just a normal night." He left that open to interpretation and took a few steps closer. "Want the company, or some space?"

She was silent for a moment, unsure what she wanted herself, then she cleared her throat a little. "Some company would... Would be nice," she replied quietly. It sounded like he was used to dealing with his own shitty nights - she was sad she hadn't known about them until now.

He nodded just a little, looking around for a moment, before saying "It's cold as hell out. Do you want to go find somewhere warm?"

Part of her wanted to say no, to sit there and suffer a little, but the practical nurse in her nodded. "Yeah. Please."

"Do you mind my tent?" he asked, a genuine question. "I've got a camp stove for coffee."

"As much as my mother would yell at me for agreeing, no, I don't mind it," she chuckled dryly, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks and standing up off her stump.

He gave her a hand up, and kept it in his as they walked back into the camp, the occasional patch of snow catching imprints of their boots. 

She let him lead her in silence, his hand warm around hers. They didn't hold hands too often, despite how often they spent in each others company - something she knew from the gossips back in the 107th was unusual for him. He'd been known for moving fast, before, but she was content to take it at a slow pace. Besides it being much better for her reputation, she knew that he had a lot of factors to contend with - mainly his capture by Hydra, and Steve. She pushed that from her mind for the moment. She was confused enough.

They reached his tent and he pulled back the flap, motioning for her to enter. It was surprisingly warm compared to outside, the tent keeping off the worst of the windchill. He entered behind her, walking over to crouch in front of the camp stove and start up the burner. 

She entered and then stood there in the center of the tent, looking just a little awkward, unsure what to do with herself now that she was here. She wasn't quite sure where to sit, so she didn't. She looked for something to fill the silence, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment. Finally, she just went simple. "Thanks, for this. I..." she sighed. "I don't know. I don't know how to handle this." 

He glanced over at her, and nodded to the cot. "Sit," he ordered, not unkindly. "I'd offer you a proper seat, but the couch got heavy after a few miles." He smiled and returned to filling a small kettle with water. "No one knows how to handle it."

She smiled a little, briefly, but her face fell into a grimace as he brought up handling it, and she sat without argument. "I knew it would be hard, I just... didn't think it would be _this_ hard," she said softly.

He nodded just a little. "Do you want to talk about it?" He put the kettle onto the burner and shifted around, sitting on the ground to face her. 

She took a deep breath then blew it all out, stalling for a moment. "I don't know. I'm not sure what there is to say." 

"How about what you're thinking about?" he suggested, leaning against his pack where it was laid out on the ground.

She chuckled a little, lifting a hand out of her blanket-toga to rub at her eyes. "I'm thinking about how if Dugan or Pinkerton or any of the others saw me walk in here they're going to get totally the wrong idea, honestly. Maybe I'll even care about that tomorrow. Right now... I don't know. Nothing feels quite real." She shrugged slightly. 

He nodded a little. "You did the right thing," he said quietly, watching her. "If they had taken Debbie they would have killed her, or worse."

She felt something twist in her chest at his words, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as a sob bubbled up in her throat, breathing in hard through her nose as the tears spilled over her cheeks again. She knew what had happened - had been there, after all. But it all felt like a bad dream until someone said it aloud, _told_ her that it had been him or Debbie, and that she had made the right choice. She bent back over herself again, just trying to keep herself mostly quiet, to avoid waking anybody up.

He stood, then, tossing propriety to the wind, and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her against his side. "Be quiet if you like, but let it out," he said softly. "It's fine. You know I understand."

She leaned into his side, nodding a little through another muffled sob, and proceeded to cry through the next five minutes, until the kettle started to boil. The whistle helped to interrupt her enough that she wound down a little, her heaving breaths settling, the tear flow subsiding somewhat. She wiped at her face a little, sniffling. "Better get that before we wake someone up," she murmured, nodding to the kettle. 

"They can stuff it," he muttered, but he stood up, walking over to remove the kettle and turn off the stove, tossing in a bag of coffee to steep, and digging around for a couple of mess kit cups.

She continued working on putting herself together while he got the coffee together, drying her face on the edge of her blanket and taking a couple deep sniffs to clear her nose. She wasn't looking forward to having to return to her tent, if she was being honest. There wasn't much of a choice, but she wished she could just stay here, distract herself all night with his presence. She rubbed her eyes again, sighing silently. 

He handed her a cup a few minutes later. "Sugar?" he asked, offering a small bag. He was relaxed, his hair just long enough to get into his eyes, unphased by her tears. 

Her eyes widened at the sight of the bag. "You have sugar? Yes, please," she chuckled a bit, mood improving a little, though her eyes were still red, and reached out to gently take the bag. She opened it and was still pleasantly surprised when she found it was, indeed, sugar, and took only a slight pinch of it to drop into her coffee. She hadn't had sugar in her coffee in almost a year, she thought. "Where did you _get_ this?" 

He smiled a little. "The quartermaster back in the 107th felt bad for me when I got back. Didn't like his pity, but didn't argue the results." He shrugged. "Seemed to think it was his patriotic duty. I hate black coffee. It worked out." He put a little in his own, and carefully wrapped the bag up in the oilcloth pouch he stored it in. 

She swirled her cup a little, looking tentatively excited, and after a moment of blowing air across the surface of the liquid to cool it off, she took a sip. "Mmm," she hummed, "God, I missed sugar. I have a terrible sweet tooth. Black coffee was a rough adjustment for me." 

He nodded. "I can say the same. Never liked it. Still don't. But it keeps me awake." He sat on the bed again, his knee brushing hers, and wasn't really sure where the next sentence came from when he said, "You said you were worried about Dugan getting the wrong idea?"

She blushed, though she did still look amused, and nodded. "I wouldn't put it past him to rag on me, if he saw. I don't think he did, or anybody else, but it's not like they haven't seen us together during leave. People tend to make assumptions."

He nodded, putting his elbows on his knees, both hands on his coffee as he sipped it and said, "What if they didn't get the wrong idea?"

She raised her eyebrows slightly at him, taking another sip of coffee. "What do you mean?" 

"If they're going to make assumptions anyway, why care whether or not they're right?" he asked, looking over at her calmly. "I guess I'm asking if you'd like to stay the night."

"Because if they haven't seen me yet, they'll see me in the morning," she pointed out, though she didn't sound particularly convinced by her own argument, and her cheeks were burning at the thought. She wasn't sure exactly what staying the night would involve when it came to him. She'd slept with a guy or two before - she was 25, after all - but never under these circumstances. It had been a dry couple of years in the WAC. 

"True," he agreed, sipping his coffee again and falling quiet, eyes on the tent wall, just waiting to see if she said anything further. He wanted her to stay. More than he had wanted anything in a long time- though that wasn't saying much. He wanted her to forget everything, and to see if he could, too. Before the war he would have already talked her into his bed. Now... He sipped his coffee.

She was silent for a minute, biting her lower lip as she hesitated, and then she took another, steadying sip of coffee, and let out a long breath. "Fuck it, though," she said finally, resting her cup on her lap and studying it to avoid having to look directly at him. "They can tease all they want. I'll remind them it's my hands stitching them up when they trip and fall." 

He grinned into his mug as he drank, the dregs thick but warm. He looked forward to seeing that. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

She laughed quietly, smirking. "I'll get Debbie to back me up. We'll be the scariest two nurses this side of the Atlantic."

He nodded, setting his tin mug aside. "It wouldn't surprise me in the least." He looked over at her, and then reached out, catching her chin gently and turning her face to look at him. "So you'll stay, then?"

She blushed again, butterflies making themselves known in her stomach, and she fought the urge to pull away just so she didn't have to meet those stunning, intense blue eyes. "Yes," she whispered in response, and swallowed. "Yes, l'll stay."

He nodded, not saying anything, just leaning in to kiss her. She tasted like coffee, and a little sugar, and he swore he was going to try and forget things for a while. 

She kissed him back, without hesitation, still clutching her half-finished coffee but now too busy to do anything about it. Her free hand, the one not holding her beverage, came up to slide slowly into his hair, encouraging. 

She responded immediately, and that eased something in him. It had been a long time since he'd kissed anyone properly. A short kiss with her after that time at the bar, a few stolen kisses with Steve when they knew it was safe, but other than that... It was exhilarating to feel even that much closeness with someone after so long. 

Kat was a little relieved to find that he didn't pull away after the initial kiss (it had been a long time since she'd really kissed anybody, and she was worried she was out of practice) and leaned further into him, deepening the kiss a little. If she was going to ruin her reputation, she better make it worth it. 

He reached with one hand to take her coffee and set it carefully aside, before pulling her closer. Now that he was touching her he was realizing exactly how much he had missed touch. He slid hands around her waist, palms spread flat.

She gave it up eagerly, winding her newly free arm around his neck, the blanket around her shoulders slipping down to her waist. With the slightly colder air at her back, she pressed in towards his warmth, happy for an excuse to get closer to him. 

He pulled away long enough to catch his breath, forehead resting against hers. "Before we get into things... How far do you want this to go?" 

She hadn't had many of these encounters, but the boys she'd had them apparently hadn't possessed an ounce of manners; she'd never been asked that question before. Then she laughed a little, breathlessly, shaking her head against his slightly. "Bucky, if I'm gonna put my name on the line, I'd rather their assumptions be correct than be unable to convince them I'm a blushing virgin. I'll take as much of you as you'll give me," she told him, her hand falling from his hair to curl into the collar of his shirt. 

"Good," he said with a sigh, kissing her again, pulling her over into his lap. 

She ignored the blanket as it half fell onto the floor, straddling his waist without much more encouragement, kissing him a little harder, letting out a soft sigh against his lips.

He leaned back, pulling her with him and relishing the feel of her warm weight on top of him. He traced fingers up her spine, pressing enough to be felt through the wool of her shirt.

Her hand slipped from his collar to pull a little at the shoulders of his jacket, a silent request to get rid of it, a quiet desperation starting a fire in her belly. Now that it was happening, she realized just how much she needed this, needed _him._

He moved his hands away from her for a moment to start unbuttoning his coat, cold fingers fumbling slightly, but managing well enough.

She shifted away from him just for a moment to help him from the bottom up, meeting him in the middle before pushing his coat off his shoulders, then leaned in to kiss him again, slipping her hands under his shirt.

He sighed happily at her cool hands against skin that was irritated from chafing against the wool of their uniforms. He kissed the corner of her neck, his hands finding the buttons of her shirt, working downward.

She nipped playfully at the corner of his jaw as he started to work on getting rid of her shirt, her skin burning under the fabric, and shifted in his lap, to grind down on him in the slightest movement imaginable. Shy, but not that shy.

He let out a surprised breath against her skin, and smiled, his hands finding her skin beneath the fabric, tracing over her ribs.

She shivered at the contact, and after a moment of trailing kisses across his neck, pulled back again to get rid of her shirt entirely, letting it drop off the side of the cot before biting her bottom lip and eyeing Bucky's still-clothed chest. "The shirt's gotta go, I think," she mused, and while she _had_ technically seen him shirtless before, this was a whole different game. She could actually _look_ this time, could actually let the desire show through on her face, even if she did still blush. 

"That so?" he asked, looking her over slowly. "I'll trade you for the bra," he suggested, grinning.

She felt her cheeks heat up again and smiled, stifling a giggle to try and maintain a little dignity. "Same time?" 

He laughed quietly, leaning back and starting to work on his buttons. "Better get started, then. I'm already ahead."

"I'm showing more skin than you at the moment, if you hadn't noticed," she retorted, though she was grinning, and reached behind her to unhook her bra before slipping it off her shoulders and letting the bra fall onto her shirt on the floor. 

He slowed, then, buttons forgotten for a moment, just taking her in. She was beautiful. He was certain that some of his ardor was due to the months and years away from the comforts of home, but he had had women now and then in the stretch. This was different. This eased some things that had been festering since... He stopped his thoughts there. He was forgetting that for now. He returned quickly to unbuttoning his shirt, smile easy again. "You're right. You have less buttons, in fairness." 

She blushed fiercely under his gaze, the shyer part of her itching to grab the blanket on the ground for some cover, but she pushed through the insecurity and then he was smiling again and she relaxed a little. "I didn't think to bring a coat with me, just the blanket, so less layers," she shrugged, smirking, leaning forward a little and letting on hand fall to hook into his belt loop.

"You've got to be cold," he offered, finally managing to extricate himself from his shirt and setting it aside. He reached out, sliding his hands up her sides, thumbs tracing under her breasts gently, just admiring her for a moment. 

She shivered once, though whether it was from the cold or the way his hands felt on her skin, it wasn't clear. Her eyes were running down Bucky's chest, her lower lip trapped between her teeth as she took him in. He was just a little more well-built than her previous bed-mates, though with the war and the fact that she was half in the lap of a serumed man, she couldn't make herself feel too surprised. God, though, was he all muscle and broad shoulders. "Yeah, I am cold," she agreed, and pulled at his belt. "Come here?" 

He smiled, leaning into her tug and pulling her against him until they were brushing up against each other, wrapping his arms around her to lend her some warmth and leaning down to kiss her again. "Let me help warm you up?" he suggested, perfectly content to be cliché. 

She couldn't resist the giggle that caused, but she nodded, "Please," and kissed him back eagerly, her hands dragging down his chest, letting her hips settle more firmly onto his with a squeeze of her hands against his skin. 

He shifted, pulling her with him as he laid back on the cot and kicked a blanket up over them, still kissing her, though his hands found her waistband, fingers dipping beneath inquisitively. 

She ground down on him again, one hand bracing herself a little on the round of his shoulder, the other slipping between them to start unbuttoning his pants. Then her nurse training kicked in, and between kisses and catching her breath, she breathed out "Please tell me you've taken advantage of the quartermaster's condom handouts," against his lips. 

He laughed, and pushed her off to the side gently. "You stay here and get undressed," he suggested, sitting up and rolling off his bed to go over to his pack. 

"Thank god," she muttered to herself, though obviously amused, and beginning to wriggle under the blanket to get out of her pants and kick her boots off the side of the cot, leaving her in her underwear. "Oh, if that guy who told me it wasn't moral signing up for the WAC could see me now," she chuckled, watching him dig through his pack, his backside just as pleasant to look at as his front. 

He emerged victorious, and set about removing his boots. "Nothing immoral about a good old-fashioned celebration of hedonism," he said with a smirk. 

"Jack might disagree, but I'm not with Jack right now," she shrugged, grinning, propped up on her elbow, the blanket conforming to her curves. 

He stripped off his trousers and climbed back into the bed and under the blanket, already getting cold again out in the biting air. He set the condom in reach and went back to kissing her, though this time he started at her neck and worked downward, nipping playfully as his hands found her underwear and tugged questioningly. 

She lifted her hips in permission, head tilted back to give him greater access, her hand wandering down his front before cupping him through the fabric of his underpants, fingers squeezing lightly.

His hips jolted forward and he made a surprised noise, breath catching in his chest. It had been a long time since he'd even had the energy or will to do anything personally, much less someone else. He worked her underwear off, more urgent now, desire flaring up in him, as explosive as it was unexpected. 

She helped him kick her underwear off, her heart rate picking up, especially at the sound he made, and she squeezed him again lightly to try and get it out of him again before shifting to kiss under his jaw, teeth scraping his skin ever-so-gently. 

"Kat..." he breathed against the dip of her collarbone, moving to try and get his boxers off, his free arm shifting to support his weight off of her. 

She hooked her fingers into his waistband and helped him extricate himself from them, and then they were skin against skin, and she rolled her hips up into his, looking for a little friction.

He obliged, his hips returning the movement. He fumbled around for where he had left the condom, patience steadily declining, and rolled aside to put it on, determined to not have to disentangle himself again. Then he was back over her, regaining warmth, his breath mingling with hers and condensing in the cold air as he leaned up to kiss her again.

She kissed him hard and a little bit desperately, the craving to be as close to him as was physically possible building in her chest. "Touch me?" She breathed in between kisses, just the hint of pleading in her voice. 

He didn't say anything, but shifted until he could slide a hand between her thighs, fingers brushing against her center, exploring gently. 

Her breath hitched, one hand sliding into his hair, the other wrapping around his length, and she was suddenly even more glad that she'd asked for him to touch her. He was just a _tad_ bigger than she'd been expecting. 

He let out a soft sigh that turned into a bit of a moan as she touched him again. He felt _good_ , for the first time in a long time. He circled the tip of his finger around her entrance, and then slid into her slowly, letting her dictate the speed of things. 

She dragged her fingers over his scalp, breath shuddering, her hips shifting up into his hand, her own hand twisting around his cock, grip growing a little firmer as she gained confidence.

He rolled against her hand, forehead pressing against hers. "That feels amazing..." He curled his finger, stroking to match her pace.

"Doin' wonders for my ego, there," she chuckled breathlessly, groaning a little as she sped up the pace and was rewarded in kind, and she shifted again, adjusted enough to begin to hunger for more. 

"Can I..." He trailed off, then rolled his hips against her hand slightly, indicative, his attention on the heat surrounding his fingers, and on her touch setting a long-dormant desperation ablaze.

"Yes, please," she whispered, breath coming a little harder in anticipation, and she dropped her hand from him to wrap her arm around his neck and urge him close enough to kiss, ignoring the slight stretch of her grazed shoulder. 

He let her shift, waiting until she seemed comfortable, content to kiss her, be near her, to feel the light scratch of fingers and wool blankets against his back. Then he settled lower, thighs brushing hers briefly before that sensation was lost in the feeling of her around him. He let out a caught breath against her lips, shoulders tensing slightly. 

She groaned as he pushed into her, fingers tight on his skin for a moment, hooking her legs around his hips, and then the impatience hit her and she closed the scant distance between them to kiss him solidly, rolling her hips up into his.

She grappled him and he smiled, his body pressed against hers pleasantly, plane against plane. He let her kiss him, let her drive forward, happy to be the subject of her aggressive affection as they made each other feel whole. 

This was not where she'd seen the night going when she'd given up on sleeping an hour prior, but damn was it a pleasant surprise, and a much needed one. She needed the distraction - needed _him._ She hadn't even realized how much she'd been wanting his touch like this. 

He was expecting things to fall into rapidity fueled by two dry spells colliding, but to his surprise he found himself wanting to move just a little slower, hold out just a little longer, savoring the healing warmth of physical contact. He tucked his forehead against her neck, taking in the smell of her skin as they moved. 

She muffled her soft moans against his shoulder, clinging tightly to him without restricting his movement. She'd had a few encounters of this like, but they'd all been rushed and usually unideal circumstances, and while the circumstances here _weren't_ ideal, she felt nothing but warm and relieved, the only urgency the pleasure burning in her core. 

He laughed as the blanket almost fell off of them, pausing just a moment to haul it back into place. He was getting worked up now, cheeks red with exertion and cold, body plenty warm, and he could feel himself getting close. "Not gonna last a hell of a long time... sorry about that..." He breathes. "It's been a while. But I promise I'll... get you off..." 

She laughed, too, and chuckled a bit more at his words, kissing the edge of his jaw. "It's been a while for me, too, soldier - I think you'll find it's not gonna take much," she said breathlessly, nipping his shoulder playfully, shifting slightly underneath him and gasping a little as she changed the angle, and she buried her face in his shoulder to keep herself from making too much noise. 

"Oh good," he murmured, a one hand cupping the back of her head, holding her closer, shifting a knee underneath him to get more leverage. His body was lighting up at her touch, nerves ecstatic.

She swore with another gasp as she started to get closer and closer, heart pounding in her chest, one arm locked around his neck and the other holding tight at his back, fingers clutching his side. _"Bucky..."_

Her voice in his ear surprised him, and then he hit the edge and careened off of it without slowing down, muffling the noises he made in her shoulder. 

She couldn't pinpoint exactly what made her hit the edge, but she went over it anyway, panting against his skin, nearly trembling with the intensity of it.

They moved together for what seemed like a long time, cresting over waves, before finally they stilled, breathes mingling roughly, steam in the cold air. 

She relaxed eventually, breath shuddering, skin cool with a light sheen of sweat, and she ran a hand through Bucky's hair. "Fuck, Bucky, now I get why none of those girls never came after you later with a knife. _Fuck."_

He laughed quietly, kissing her shoulder. "Much of that can be attributed to your skill, not mine, I think," he retorted, rolling off to the side after a moment to give his arms a break. "Fuck indeed..."

There wasn't much room to be had side-to-side on the cot, so she rolled onto her side, tucked up into him still, legs entangled with his, and let out a long breath, eyes fluttering closed. "Well, that should make sleep easier, at the very least," she chuckled softly, eyes shut. 

"Good," he said, shifting her closer until she could relax without falling off the cot, and tucking the blanket carefully around them both. "Sleep, then."

She nodded sleepily and burrowed into him slightly before falling still, apparently having dropped off to sleep instantly. 

* * *

A tent over, Steve was lying rigid in the dark, his cheeks hot with embarrassment and something else he didn't want to look too closely at. He'd heard the muffled sounds of Bucky with a girl before, back in Brooklyn, in their tiny apartment with the thin walls. Back then, he hadn't felt anything besides an exasperation, a hint of jealousy, and a desire to be somewhere more quiet. Now? He didn't know what it was, but Christ, was he trying very hard to make his dick a little less interested. Baseball stats, of course, were his go-to, but the sounds of Bucky and Kat making love not fifteen feet away was surprisingly difficult to ignore. Damn his hearing. He forcefully unlocked his body a little as the sounds died down and rolled onto his side, away from Bucky's tent, and stared into the darkness for a few minutes before deciding that deciphering what was going on with his body and his head would wait for another time, and settling back in to sleep. 


	10. Glimpse: Sensitive Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HALT! Other chapters have been released today! Go look at those first if you haven't already!

####  _**1945, October, Austria:** _

_“Sind die Soldaten transportbereit?”_

_[Are the Soldiers ready for transport?]_

_“Jawohl. Cryo hält ruhig, Gott sei Dank. Unsere Verbündeten in Russland sind bereit, sie zu empfangen.”_

_[Yes, sir. Cryo is holding steady, thank God. Our allies in Russia are ready to receive them.]_

_“Gott hat nichts damit zu tun, Müller. Das ist Wissenschaft.”_

_[God has nothing to do with it, Müller. This is science.]_

_“Schmidt würde es anders sagen.”_

_[Schmidt would say differently.]_

_“Schmidt ist tot. Captain America hat ihn getötet. Seine Mystik hat uns erst so weit gebracht, Müller. Es ist Zeit, sich auf die Stärke der Menschen zu verlassen, nicht auf die der Götter.”_

_[Schmidt's dead. Captain America killed him. His mysticism only got us so far, Müller. It's time to rely on the strength of men, not gods.]_

Müller fell silent, unsure what to say in response, and his superior, Meyer, returned to his paperwork while Müller looked out the window of the office, down on the activity below. They were transitioning the cryo tubes from their stations to the waiting truck, which took a combined dozen men for each tube. The tubes themselves accounted for about half the weight - the bodies within nearly matched that weight. The Soldiers were... dense. They’d discovered the phenomenon first with the woman - after the metal arm had been installed and after the serum had been administered and taken hold, moving her from table to table became a mountain of a thing. The scientists had needed to borrow a few of the soldiers for the task. X-rays did not explain the difference in weight, but the scientists theorized it came from the serum - that it had increased bone density along with the predicted changes in muscle mass. This seemed to be supported by the way the two Soldiers sparred; where either one of them could send a regular man flying, they exchanged blows between themselves with effects closer to two regular humans fighting. Their density kept them on the ground for the other Soldier’s kicks and punches, and while it had been something nobody had considered, it was regarded as somewhat fortunate. They were damn hard to knock over, even with a vehicle (yes, they had tried that), and their superior strength and speed seemed to make up for the extra weight without an issue. Heavy as they were, they still outpaced any regular man or woman, and - their handlers could not stress this enough - their attacks were not slowed by this weight. 

Müller had seen the Soldiers in action from the other side of steel bars, had seen one of the handlers make a mistake during training. The handler had electrocuted the male with the disciplinary rod, and left his back wide open for the female. She’d splattered his brains across the floor. 

Before their files had been heavily redacted, Müller had gotten a look, and those had reported that the two had known each other before being captured and programmed for this higher purpose. Some part of them still knew each other, apparently. Müller was of the opinion that they should have been separated the moment The Asset was done training his former companion, but the higher ups said differently, and he knew better than to make a fuss about it. Not his fault if his colleagues didn’t treat the Soldiers with the proper caution. 

Downstairs, the men heaved the first cryo tube into the bed of the truck, and then stepped back, a few of them obviously catching their breath. One down, one to go. The truck was headed for a new cell in Russia, comprised mostly of previous Hydra agents that had escaped the Allies sweep through Europe, but Müller knew that they were in the midst of training new recruits there. The Soldiers would be instrumental to training the new recruits - if nothing more than healthy caution for things they didn’t understand. Most of all, though, the veteran Hydra agents would be in charge of making sure that the new recruits did not give them away. Secrecy was their new bread and butter - espionage was the way of the future. If Hydra wanted to survive, it needed to keep under the radar. A couple hand-picked Hydra scientists had had their files purposefully leaked for the purpose of advertising to the stupid Americans their scientific advances. The rumor - one substantiated enough to be listened to - was that the U.S. was going to recruit scientists from Germany for their own purposes. A perfect opportunity to plant dedicated men right in the heart of their enemy. 

Müller was unsure what his own fate would be, now that Hydra was mostly destroyed within Germany. He was no scientist, nor much of a soldier. He was a leader, and Hydra now had far more of his ilk than grunts. That would need to be rectified, eventually. For now, they would have to operate like they were new again. Carefully. Silently. The Soldiers, he would likely never see again, despite the time he’d put into their management. They would be taught Russian and Mandarin and a few dozen other things on top of the German they’d already been given, and finally they would become the well-rounded machines he knew they could be. 

_“Müller. Gibt es einen Grund, warum Sie immer noch in meinem Büro stehen?”_

_[Müller. Is there a reason you're still standing in my office?]_

Meyer spoke, finally looking up from his paperwork to look somewhat expectantly at Müller. Just the slightest hint of derision was in his eyes. Colleagues they were, friends they were not. Müller shook his head, and headed for the door. 

_“Danke für deine Zeit, Meyer.”_

_[No. Thank for your time, Meyer.]_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddd that's the last for tonight! As you may have noticed, these glimpses are going to jump dates quite a bit! Let us know what you guys think!


	11. Two Thirds Of The Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I really didn't think we'd be updating for a while, but surprise?! Don't get used to it, but let's enjoy it while it lasts! Another chapter is being uploaded after this one, in the Glimpse series!

The first thing that Bucky noticed when he woke up was that he was waking up  _ slowly _ . Not because of a nightmare, but due to the lightening of the tent and the sounds of camp being struck. He stretched slightly, then found the warm body in the bed next to him with a bit of surprise before his mind fully returned to him. He huffed slightly and shifted, trying to decide whether to wake her right away or let her wake on her own. 

He didn't have long to wait - but not because she woke up on her own. A minute later someone knocked through the fabric of the tent on one of the poles, and she started awake to hear Steve say, "Wake up, Buck- we're leaving soon. Can't believe you didn't hear all the commotion - the camp is so busy right now you could sneak an elephant through it and no one would notice," he said, in a tone of voice she hadn't heard from him before, and Kat glanced over her shoulder to find Bucky awake like herself. "You'll have to hurry though, if you don't want them taking the tent down around you," he finished, and she understood, and blushed. Steve knew she was in here, which probably meant he'd found out last night. Quickly, she sat up, ignoring a twinge in her shoulder, and after touching Bucky's hand briefly with her own slid out from under the blanket and into the colder air to start pulling on her clothes hurriedly. Steve's message was clear: she had a chance that nobody would notice where she'd been all night. If Debbie could keep her mouth shut, anyway. 

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Bucky called back, though his glance at the door was a little bit uncertain. Steve was unhappy about something. They'd talk about it later. He got up and started getting dressed, as well. "Just duck out and into the crowd," he suggested quietly. 

"That was the plan, yeah," she whispered back with a small smile, managing the extraordinary feat of putting on her bra without turning it around to look at the latches - a girl had to have some sense of mystery about her, didn't she? She crouched to grab her shirt and then pulled it on as quickly as she could manage without yanking her gauze, and then she stepped over to lean up on her toes and kiss Bucky on the cheek. "Thanks for last night. I mean it. Now can I trouble you to peek out the front and make sure Dugan hasn't spontaneously generated there?" 

He nodded just a little. "How's your shoulder?" he asked as he finished buttoning his shirt and combed fingers quickly through his wildly disheveled hair. 

Her eyes followed his hand to his hair, and she quickly looked back at his face, fighting back a very amused smile, and nodded a little, shrugging one-shoulderedly. "It's a little better. Scabbing nicely. Getting the gauze off last time was about as fun as the soldiers I help do that have made it look. I'll manage," she replied, and gave him a reassuring smile. "That's not what troubles me, ultimately. I'll be fine, in that regard."

"Find me if you need me," he suggested, before ducking out the tent door and looking around. He stuck a hand back in the flap to motion her out, and then set off on his way to find breakfast at the mess tent. 

She slid out behind him with the movements of a person avoiding being seen, and waited until he was a few feet away before she headed back to her own tent, blanket tucked under her arm, and trying to look like she belonged walking around without a coat on this early in the morning. 

Debbie was in the process of breaking down their tent, and looked up - clearly relieved - when Kat approached. "Kat. I was worried. I woke up and you were gone- I was worried you'd frozen somewhere! Where's your coat?" she scolded. Then her gaze zeroed in on her friend's neck, and narrowed, before a grin slowly slid onto her face. " _ Well _ then..." 

Kat cleared her throat, a blush lighting up her cheeks, but a cat-got-the-cream smile following on the heels of the blush. Then her eyes widened, and she clamped a hand over her neck. "Oh fuck, did he leave a mark?" She asked disbelievingly, and then broke down into laughter, hunching over a little to keep herself quiet, and she pointed at Debbie as she fell quiet, eyes mock intense. "Hey. Not a word to anyone, got it?" 

Debbie grinned wider. "I'll give you a handkerchief. Well, details!" she insisted, though she returned to pulling tent pegs. 

"No, it's okay, I think I have a large scarf that wouldn't look out of place in February snows," she said, chuckling, and walked over to their gathered things to dig through them and pull the said scarf out of her bag, wrapping it around her and pulling on her coat before beginning to assist Debbie. "He's a  _ real  _ good kisser, I'll tell you that. The rest, well," she paused for a moment and mimed locking her lips with a key, looking amusedly smug. "Can't kiss and tell, can I?" 

"You  _ did _ just kiss and tell," Debbie said, amused. "Which suggests a whole lot more than kissing. I take it he was good?" she prodded, starting to coil tent lines. 

She smirked, taking the tent pegs and packing them into their box. "I certainly wasn't disappointed, I'll tell you that," she hummed, giving Debbie a knowing look and then laughing again. "Made my night a hell of a lot better." 

Debbie laughed, too. "Good. I'm glad to see you smiling. it's been a rough few days on everyone, you especially." She kneeled to start rolling up the canvas tent tightly. 

"Oh, I don't know. At least I didn't get grabbed. You did," she pointed out, though somewhat softly, cautious of bringing up such a bad topic. She still smiled though, and stepped over to help get the canvas roll straightened. "How have you been sleeping?" 

She nodded. "I've been alright, at least. It isn't anything I can do anything about, is it? Just have to keep pressing on." She strapped the tent roll tightly and picked it up. "What else can we do?"

"Nothing, I guess. You're right," Kat sighed, then shook her head slightly. "Well, we can be there for each other."

She nodded at that. "As much as we can be in this god-forsaken place. Until then, though, breakfast. I'm starved, and I'd bet you are too," she said with a teasing grin. "That is, unless you got your fill last night?"

"Oh, you rascal," she laughed, reaching over to mock slap Debbie's wrist. "I'm starving, actually. Let's get this done and get some food."

* * *

The next week or so was a reprieve Bucky didn't know he'd needed. Kat kept him distracted - during the day with glances and his own wandering thoughts, and at night with.. well. She spent more nights in his tent than not. But the mood started to sour as he realized that whatever this was, it was beginning to bother Steve. He did his best not to be frustrated - Steve had been the one to encourage this, after all - but it was a building tension that he knew was going to come to a head at some point soon. 

Steve was majorly conflicted. He'd realized the third night that the two were together that Bucky was more invested than he'd really intended - and this both bothered and comforted Steve. It bothered him because Steve missed Bucky's time - and it comforted him because Bucky smiled more often, and he  _ slept. _ Hands down, Bucky was sleeping again. He didn't know how long it would last, but it was a precious commodity. And then there was the fact that it was  _ Kat  _ that Bucky had his eyes on, and Steve could admit to himself (even  _ if  _ it was begrudgingly) that he liked Kat. A lot. More than he should, when his attentions were supposed to be on Peggy. 

There were several problems with the Peggy situation, if he was being honest. One was that she had no idea of the depth of the relationship between him and Bucky, and Steve wasn't sure if he could give up his longest love - not like that. Not forever. Not if he could help it. Another problem was that that woman at the SSR HQ had laid one on him just in time for Peggy to walk in and see, and their relationship (their 'haven't even held hands' relationship) hadn't quite recovered. The third problem was that the more time he spent, watching Kat and Bucky from the fringes, the more he felt... longing. An unidentified longing - one he couldn't pin down. Maybe it had to do with the nights they kept him awake. Either way, the thought of doing any of them wrong sat poorly with him. 

Kat was pleased with the arrangement she had going with Bucky - and somewhat weirdly enough, Steve, who miraculously had kept any of the men from discovering her with Bucky. She was a little embarrassed, knowing that he knew exactly what she and Bucky were getting up to the nights she stayed with him, but he never said a word to her about it either way, so she took his cue and kept pretending that nothing was different. Still... the times she sat with Bucky at the mess hall, Steve acted differently than he used to. He was a little more quiet, a little more subdued. He cracked less jokes. Truthfully, she missed his slight rambunctiousness, missed the man who had teased Bucky for having to pull his pants down in front of a strange woman. She wasn't sure what to do about the matter, though, until one morning in the mess.

Bucky had just left his seat to go get a report he'd left in his tent, and Kat watched Steve's eyes follow him until he disappeared from sight, and the pragmatic, self-sacrificing part of her took charge of her mouth before she was really ready for the words that followed. "Steve," she started, looking at him across the rinky-dink table, her hand resting on the edge of it, next to her scraped-clean food tray. "I'm going to step back. From... from this uh, thing I have with Bucky. I.. Fuck," she sighed, rubbing her eyes once before looking back at him, ignoring his surprised expression and forging ahead, "I like him a lot. But what you guys have seems more important than that. I don't wanna get in the way. I'm telling Bucky tonight." 

Steve stared at her for a moment, his spoon in his hand bending slightly as he fiddled with it absently. He glanced to either side, then frowned. "Kat... That wouldn't be a smart decision. No point in doing that."

Kat grimaced, looking down at the table. Of course he had to make it hard - that was just the pig-headedness Bucky always told her Steve had. And  _ damn  _ her, but she found it wildly endearing. She shook that thought off. No need to even stray there, not when she was planning to direct Bucky back Steve's way. "Isn't there? There's nothing  _ stupid  _ about it, certainly - nobody would bat an eye if me and Bucky didn't work out. Not every battlefield romance is meant to last, you know? It's fine. I just... can't... stand in the way like this." She looked up from the table, meeting his eyes. "I'm not the kind of person to get in the way of.. something like that." 

He sighed and stood up, picking up both of their trays to clear the table . "Care to take a walk?" he asked, nodding to the tent around them meaningfully.

She sighed, but nodded grimly and stood. "We better make it quick. Bucky's report can only  _ be  _ so lost." 

"We can be more lost than his report, if need be," he retorted casually. They exited the tent with a brief detour to return their trays, and he walked down a row toward the edge of camp. 

Once they were far enough from prying ears, he turned to her. "What you're referring to... There's no real future in it. Not more than we’ve had. There just... Can't be. You and I both know that. So don't give up something that is making both of you happy because of some misplaced sense of justice."

She scrunched up her face a little, stubbornly, shaking her head. "I don't know about all that, Steve, but I... I don't know. I'm not comfortable pushing you out of your space. Because of me you've seen less of Bucky around. I know it bothers you."

He shrugged. "What it does to me is my business. Not anyone else's. There's no reason that he shouldn't be happy. And you know as well as I do that there's no future where things work out the way you're suggesting."

She put her hands on her hips, the stubborn ramping up a notch. "You're telling me that nobody's ever succeeded with it, Steve? I got an aunt that lives with her best friend, has for years. Never got married. She and Mary live by themselves and the family - well, it's none of our business, and they're welcome to all the holidays, and the birthdays, too." She paused, letting out a huff of air and looking down at her feet, hands still planted on her hips. "I know, looking at them, it can be done. You're just afraid of trying. Rightfully, maybe. But you are." 

Steve studied her for a while, mulling over whatever it was about that statement that bothered him so much. Finally he said "It doesn't matter if I'm afraid of trying, or not. It doesn't matter if it can be done or not- maybe it can, maybe it can't. What matters is that he's happy with you. He smiles. He  _ sleeps _ . I can't give that to him. You can. Don't take that away from him on the off chance that some day he and I can...  _ Exist _ ."

She clenched her teeth in frustration, staring down at her shoes and trying to figure out a way to let everyone be happy. She couldn't be responsible for Steve's unhappiness, she knew this concretely. It wasn't like she knew him that well - it was certainly not as long or deep a relationship as the one he had with Bucky - but she liked him, a lot. He was kind, and trying his hardest to do right by everyone. He didn't have the demons Bucky carried, but he had his own share of worries, of troubles, and who the  _ hell _ was she to add another stone to the scale? So what did she do? He was flat out refusing to accept her gracefully stepping aside - she bet a month's wages on him intervening if she tried to go ahead anyway. Shit, maybe it was time to throw in something batshit - something as unconventional as the whole damn fucking situation. 

She looked up from her shoes, a funny look on her face, and met Steve's deep blue eyes. The color of deep water. Bucky's were more the color of thick winter ice. "Okay, Rogers. You're a stubborn son of a gun, I get it. But here's the thing: as stubborn as you are,  _ that's _ not where your fame comes from. And I'm not talking about the broad-shouldered 'I can pick up a motorcycle thing,' I'm talking about your Man With A Plan persona. Steve, we-" she half turned away, breaking out in incredulous laughter at herself, and continued as best as she could through it, "We'll make a strategy. Or arrangement - whatever you want to call it. We'll..." She stopped laughing, shaking her head slightly. "We'll do whatever is best for Bucky. You don't want me stepping aside because Bucky sleeps? Fine, I suppose I can't argue with that. But I'm not going to let his best friend distance himself. I'm still talking to Bucky. I'll just... Make it clear he's not," she cleared her throat, "you know. Uh, bound to me?"

That derailed his vision for this conversation thoroughly. He looked over at her, taking in her expression, confirming that he wasn't misinterpreting what she'd just said. He frowned. 

"You don't..."

He stopped, unsure of how to phrase the question, then started again. 

"That wouldn't... Bother you?"

She gave him an exasperated kind of shrug. "I don't know, Steve - I don't think so. For Pete's sake, I  _ did  _ go into whatever the hell I have with Bucky knowing about-" she made a hand motion his way, indicating his relationship with Bucky, "So I... don't  _ think  _ it would. I mean, it's not exactly cheating if we're not really together  _ and  _ I know about it, is it?" 

That flummoxed him, and his brow furrowed. "I... No...? I don't know." He shook his head, his ears flaming. "The point being you aren't going to leave him on my behalf. Right?"

"No! No, you won. We both won, I guess," she said, rubbing at a cheek flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Oh, Jack would really have something irritating to say about her morality now, she was sure of it. She let out a big sigh, dropping her hands to her sides. "Alright, well, I'll talk to him tonight. Just, not about what I was planning to," she said, looking at Steve. She was a little pleased that she was getting to see a side of Steve that was able to be flummoxed. 

He nodded slowly. "I want you to promise me something, though, Kat. Can you?"

She furrowed her brow a little, cautious. "Depends what you're trying to rope me into, Rogers, but probably, knowing you."

He nodded. "I want you to promise that you won't presume what will make Bucky happy," he said, his bright blue eyes fixed on hers, gentle, but piercing. "Let him decide that for himself."

She chuckled a little, looking away and shaking her head slightly. Not disapproving, just amused at the situation. "Believe it or not, Rogers, but I wasn't actually thinking that hard about Bucky's happiness in regards to this. I was thinking about yours. But yes, I promise."

"Well,  _ certainly _ don't presume what would make me happy," he says with a small smile. "No offense, Kat, but you don't know me well enough for that."

She looked a little embarrassed, but shrugged again. "No, maybe not. But I think I know you well enough to tell when you're  _ un _ happy. That was what prompted me. Maybe you wouldn't be happier, but you seemed to be getting  _ worse,  _ so I-" she sighed, turning her palms out in a brief helpless gesture. "I just didn't want to be responsible for another weight on you. That's not me. I don't want it to be, anyway."

His gaze softened slightly at her discomfort. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "That was harsh." He looked up, and caught sight of Bucky near the mess tent, looking bemused. "We should go."

She followed his gaze and snorted softly, nodding once. "Yeah. Let's go. I bet we can get back into the tent without him noticing, really prank him good, yeah?"

He laughed, a full warm sound, and motioned for her to lead the way.

* * *

Bucky seemed not very surprised to see them back in the mess hall where he found them, though she suspected maybe it was difficult sneaking around him when he was already looking for them. He seemed to take their word on their disappearance being prank-related. But as dinner wrapped up and Steve slipped away on the excuse of finishing a report, she found herself at the edge of camp with Bucky, as about as private as they could get under the circumstances. "Bucky, can we talk?" Kat asked suddenly, interrupting the comfortable silence. "About Steve?"

Bucky had been watching the woods beyond their camp as they walked, absently searching for threats, but he turned his focus to her as she spoke up. Her question set him on edge, but he tried not to let it show on his face. "Alright... What about him?"

Kat took a deep breath, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets so she didn't fidget them nervously. This was  _ not  _ a conversation she'd ever imagined happening. But still, the only way out was straight through. "Steve's lonely, and it feels like.. like my fault. I know it's not, really, but it also  _ kind  _ of is..." she shook her head a little, trying to get on track. "The point is, you should spend more time with him. Like you used to. I'll still be here, 'course, just..." she shrugged, kicking at the snow on the ground. "I don't wanna push Steve out just by being here. I promise I'm not a jealous woman." 

He frowned at that, glancing toward the camp. "Did he say something?"

"No, not really," she shook her head, "But I'm around the two of you often enough to see it. Can't you?" 

He shrugged a little. "I can," he agreed. "I guess I'm not surprised you did too. He's a horrible actor." He gave a bit of a wry smile. "I just don't know how to fix it."

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I didn't either. Maybe still don't, depending on what you think of my solution. Steve is game, if that conversation went how I think it did - but it's really up to you. Uh, seeing Steve again, that is. Like I said, I'm not a jealous person." She huddled into her coat as a breeze picked up, catching a flyaway from her bun and waving it around lazily. "Though maybe if you're going to, you might want to give Steve a few acting lessons." 

His expression stiffened as she spoke, brow tightening. "See... Him. Kat..." He sighed. "We can't. Even a stolen moment is a risk, as you well know."

She scoffed, leaning back a little in offense. "So if you'd never asked me out, you would've stopped seeing Steve? Look, I'm not suggesting you marry the guy, Bucky, I'm just saying don't treat him different than you were before  _ me.  _ Is that so unreasonable?"

He bristled a little at that. "No, I wouldn't have... I..." he sighed. "Fuck, the two of you are alike."

That forced a bit of a smile out of her. "Sorry. I know one of us was probably enough on your plate," she chuckled.

He shook his head a little. "It's fine. Apparently I have a thing for meddlesome martyrs," he said grumpily, though it was teasing.

She kicked some snow at him, laughing quietly. "I guess so. Poor you." 

He dodged her kick with a laugh, bending to pack a quick snowball and lob it back at her. "Why bring this up all of a sudden?"

She dodged most of the powdery snowball with a yelp, then shook her head. "I don't know. It was bothering me, so I talked to Steve today, and now I'm talkin' to you." 

He nodded, walking over to grip her shoulder, studying her face. "You're alright with this?"

"Yeah," she nodded, trying to be as certain as possible about it. "I went into this thinking maybe you and Steve weren't, you know, stopping anyways. It's not much of an adjustment."

He reached up to touch her cheek, studying her eyes for a moment. "You are something else, Kat Lewis," he said quietly.

She blushed deeply, and cleared her throat to try and avoid fidgeting on the spot. She smiled a little, and reached out to flick his shoulder lightly through his jacket. "Guess you're lucky to have me or something, huh?" She teased, blustering through the vulnerable moment, and leaned up on her tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. 

He turned to kiss her properly, and smirked. "Not sure I'd go  _ that _ far," he teased, but he pulled her into a hug.

She returned the kiss and then wrapped an arm around his shoulders, burying her face in his neck for a moment. "That's because you're a foolish man who apparently doesn't know what's good for him, just like Rogers. Makes me being your nurse a nightmare, trust me," she teased, grinning up at him from under his chin. 

He laughed, and didn't argue. "You know, you can blame Steve for all of this. He was the one who pushed me to ask you out."

She nodded a little, looking a little mystified. "Yeah, I remember you said he told you to ask me out. Though," she side-eyed him, "I think I remember there being less talk of  _ pushing _ before."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did I say pushed? I meant inspired," he assured her, smiling.

She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Uh huh. Very convincing. Now I see what the reputation is from," she said sarcastically, voice somewhat dry. She was still smiling, though. 

He bent down to kiss her again. "You know where my head was at," he said quietly. "You've proved me quite wrong. Happy?"

"Yes, strangely enough," she said back softly, looking up at him with her big green eyes. "Despite where we are, I'm happy. Does that make me a bad person?"

"Maybe a little bit," he conceded, inclining his head. "But few people here are  _ good _ people, so that's a pretty good reason to be a bad one."

She gave him a gentle smile, but sighed as she looked off into the woods. That feeling of fear at not belonging bubbled in her stomach. "We're all stuck here becoming worse people by the hour, and I still rather be here than permanently rooted at home," she murmured. Maybe Jack had had a point. She looked back up at Bucky. "I'd prefer to remain as good a person as I can, honestly. I... I don't know. There's got to be a reason I'm the way I am. Restless, and what have you. I'd like to think it's to help people escape this hell with their lives."

He followed her gaze back to the edge of the forest. "I understand that," he said quietly after a little while. He pulled away, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What do you want to do, if we get out of all of this? Will you want to go home? To the farm?"

She took in a deep breath. A stall tactic, maybe - she wasn't sure herself. "I don't know," she said, after a moment, and looked back at him. "I worry, you know? That the farm won't be right for me, after all this. After what happened with Debbie, and..." she shook her head a little, looking down at her feet briefly. "But what choice do I have? I'll have to do what's expected of me. Even if I'm fucking... screaming inside the whole time." 

He rolled up onto his toes, then back onto his heels, an absent movement, before planting his boots a little more firmly. "I understand that feeling," he agreed. "Sometimes I think that it might be better...." He trailed off, then shook his head. "I don't know. Come on, let's go get coffee or something. It's cold." 

"Yeah, alright," she agreed quietly, turning back towards the camp. "Coffee."

* * *

For once, it was Bucky waiting for Steve at the tents, not the other way around. The captain wandered up, clearly tired, and gave Bucky a once-over, before nodding to his tent. "Come in." Bucky stood out of the crouch he'd been resting in- the ground was peppered with snow and he didn't feel like damp pants- and followed him inside. 

"What's up, Buck?" Steve asked as Bucky followed behind him, walking over to his cot to sit and unlace his boots. 

Bucky turned and closed up the tent behind them, tying the flaps shut. He turned back to Steve, taking a knee and taking over unlacing the boot. "We should talk."

Steve let him, though he looked wary at his words. "What about?"

"About Kat," he said as he pulled the boot off, moving on to the other one. "And about the fact that I miss you, and that you're an idiot."

Steve felt like his breath might catch in his chest like it used to, when he was small and sickly, but when he tried to speak it was easier than it had once been. "Used to being called an idiot by you, you're gonna have to be more specific," he pointed out. 

"Fair enough," Bucky agreed, setting the other boot aside and kneeling up, pushing Steve's knees apart and shifting between them. He reached up, grabbed the bigger (now) man's collar, and pulled him down to kiss him. 

Steve felt the heat rise in his gut before Bucky's lips even touched his, and he leaned forward to meet him, a hand grabbing a fistful of dark hair, his lips deepening the kiss like a starving man. 

They stayed like that for a long time, kisses and touches so much more than they would have been months ago, before they'd had to hold back, before the war. Now every brush of their lips felt like connecting a livewire. Bucky knew they should be more careful, knew that they were risking far too much by doing this, but he was sick of these stupid stolen moments, of a touch as they passed, a kiss in the darkness, of fear. He pushed himself up against Steve, every movement as silent as he could make it, breaths controlled, but  _ warm. _

Some part of Steve was surprised Bucky wasn't using this moment to tell him  _ See what an idiot you've been, keeping us apart? _ but the rest of him was too busy being consumed by desire. He pulled Bucky hard against him, with more force than he would normally enact on a person he wasn't trying to hurt. He couldn't help it. God, he'd missed him. Still, after a while of kissing and groping, he pulled back a little, reluctantly. "What were you going to say? Or was this it?" __

"Shut up, twink," Bucky breathed, grinning a little and starting to undo Steve's shirt. "Can you be quiet, do you think?"

Steve's heart did a hard  _ ka-thump  _ in anticipation, and he swallowed hard as he nodded silently, already trying to play the game, his hands already shooting up to get Bucky out of his shirt. He was nearly shaking with the effort of not just ripping it. 

"Ah ah ah..." Bucky scolded softly, batting his hands away and pushing Steve's shirt open, before working on his belt. "Let's start slow, shall we? I still haven't seen the goods, and hell knows we aren't both going to fit on this cot." He unzipped the fly of Steve's trousers, and shimmied them down. 

"I was willing to try," Steve muttered petulantly, though his eyes were so big and dark there was no doubt that he was entirely under Bucky's thumb at the moment. His hands he kept in tight fists by his sides. Nobody could say he wasn't an obedient little soldier when he felt like it.

"Stop whining," Bucky mutters, pulling down Steve's boxers as well and pausing, before letting out an appreciative whistle. "You weren't kidding, hm?" he asked, before looking up at Steve and grinning. "That'll be fun." 

* * *

Steve managed to keep himself far quieter than Bucky was expecting, which was reassuring, in a way. Maybe they could do this. Steal moments like this, risk a little. It was worth it. 

He left Steve sleeping- he looked like he needed it- and left for his own tent, rinsing his mouth with a little vodka before he climbed into bed, closing his eyes and resigning himself to the darkness until morning.


	12. Glimpse: Cryogenic Time Travel Sucks

####  _**2011-2014** _

Steve woke up and almost immediately wished he hadn’t. He never spoke that thought aloud, but a few people could see it, he knew. Natasha, first, and then later, Sam. Peggy knew, he thought, but she never came out and directly said it besides gentle encouragement and calling him dramatic. But it was there; that nagging wish to have never come out of the ice, that desire to be back in the cold dark, forgotten by the rest of the world. But now they remembered him. Now they were paying attention to him. He wasn’t sure if he liked that very much. 

He had less than a year to recover, to get himself together into something resembling a human, instead of the grief-stricken robot he’d become. And then 2012 hit, and aliens were real, and the past - the past he’d been longing for so fiercely - felt a little further away. They put him on real missions again, and he took another step away, tried to move on. Almost two years passed of bitter progress, of a stubborn one-foot-in-front-of-the-other approach to life. He made friends with Natasha, as weird as that was, and met Sam. Even asked Kate (who turned out to be Sharon) across the hall for coffee. And then everything that had been going south out of his sight, behind the curtain, all came forward. 

And then there was Bucky. 

And then he felt like a sixteen-year-old kid in Brooklyn again. Three years of hard-fought progress gone, out the window, totally forgotten.  _ Bucky.  _ He was  _ alive.  _ And after all this time... 

Before, when people had asked him about the past, about the other Howling Commandos, he would try to explain whatever had been asked of him, would smile as politely as he could manage. But it still hurt to speak about them, and he avoided saying Bucky’s name, avoided mentioning Kat. He let them think his only love had been Peggy; she was the most publicly acceptable partner he’d had. Peggy was almost more a what-if than a true lost love, but he still cared for her. Still, it only felt right to keep Bucky and Kat mostly to himself. Times hadn’t changed  _ too  _ much in that way, anyway. People weren’t ready to hear that Captain America had been in a relationship with more than one person at once. 

But then Bucky dragged him out of the Potomac, and everything was so, so different. Sam and Natasha were supportive - where Nat had really gotten the file on Bucky he didn’t want to know - and for the first time in three years he felt real hope for his future. Fear, too, and nagging doubt, but also the feeling that maybe, God  _ maybe _ , not everything he loved had been lost. 

Now, when people asked about his past, he said very little at all. 

Before he left D.C. for his search, he visited Peggy, partially to update her, partially to see her one last time, in case... He didn’t like to think about it, but she was deteriorating. Still, she had lucid stretches, and she was in one when he visited.

“Steve!” She beamed as he walked in, shifting in her chair by the window, her hair falling in a white cloud around her face. 

“Hi, Peggy,” he smiled wearily, and her gaze and smile softened. By now, they’d had time to get used to one another again. When she remembered him, that was.

“I heard about the Triskelion, and Bucky. Steve...” she trailed off for a moment, and he walked over to sink into the chair next to her, and he reached to take her hand in his. She squeezed his hand in her rickety grip for a moment before letting go and taking her hand to search the pockets of her loose, flower-print dress, and after a second she pulled out a folded up piece of paper. “I remembered something the other day, and I wrote it down so I wouldn’t forget.” She held out the piece of paper for him to take, and he did, brows drawing together slightly as he unfolded it.

There, in Peggy’s beautiful cursive, was:  _ Katherine Lewis was alive in the 1950s. _

His gaze rocketed back to Peggy’s. “Peggy, you.. What do you know?” He asked, blue eyes intent on hers, a hint of longing behind them. 

“I wrote a whole report when I saw her. I don’t remember it too well anymore, but S.H.I.E.L.D. should have a copy. It’s probably on the internet, now,” she replied looking back at him with as comforting of a gaze as she could make. “But...”

“But with Bucky alive, you think...” Steve continued, and Peggy nodded. 

“I think she could be like him, Steve, yes. She never recognized me. And she was... so fast...” she shook her head slightly, raising a thin hand to rub at her eyes, trying to remember with more clarity what had happened. After a moment of effort, she sighed, and put her hand down. “It’s escaping me, at the moment. But with HYDRA finally on the retreat... it might be worth looking for signs of her.” 

Steve nodded, and stood suddenly, a renewed energy driving him, and leaned in to kiss Peggy’s forehead. “Thanks, Peg, I mean it. Maybe...” He stood back, and pushed a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. “Maybe she’s out there too. I’ll visit as soon as I can, okay?” 

“Okay,” Peggy smiled, reaching out to pat his hand. “Go. Good luck, Steve.” 

He gently squeezed her hand, and then practically disappeared out the door, an energy burning up his spine, a feeling he couldn’t pin down or really explain - all he knew was that Bucky was alive, and now there was a possibility that Kat was too. He pulled out his phone, and called Sam. 

“Hey, Sam. We got some digging to do.” 


	13. Glimpse: A Web Of Circumstance

####  **_2014, Washington D.C. Safehouse:_ **

  
  


Steve knocked on the safe house door twice, then again three times, and stood there for a minute while he waited for Natasha to verify on the security cameras that it was really him. The door opened to the tired-looking redhead the expected minute later, and they smiled bleakly at each other for a moment before she stepped aside and let him in. 

“Hey, Steve. What can I help you with?” she asked, quiet but earnest, and he smiled again.

“Hey, Nat. I...” He shook his head a little, and laughed tiredly, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck. He shook his head. “It’s crazy. It’s impossible. But I thought if anyone I trusted would know, it would be you,” he said, and reached into his back jeans pocket to pull out his compass. Her eyebrows rose slightly, but as he flicked it open and turned it around to face her, her face paled. Steve frowned, the words he’d been about to say lost. “Natasha? What is it?” 

She opened her mouth a little, closed it, then opened it again, eyes flicking from him to the compass and back again. “Who is that, Steve?” She asked finally, though her voice was not the usual steadfast-steel he was used to; her voice was worried. They stared at each other for a long moment before Steve’s eyes fell to the compass again, and he tilted it so he could see inside. The picture within was a shot taken at the pub in London they’d all frequented before it had been blown up, an image of three people standing in front of the bar. A man on the left, his arm wrapped around the waist of the woman in the middle, whose arm was slung around the shoulder of the taller, dark-haired woman on the right. All three were smiling at the camera. Bucky and Kat and Peggy. One of the few times they’d all been in one place. 

“That’s Katherine Lewis,” he said, knowing that Natasha was well-versed on who Bucky and Peggy were, and looked back at her. Her eyebrows were drawn tightly together. “She... Bucky and I...” He took a breath. He wasn’t used to talking about them to anybody. About their relationship together. Sam had gotten the gist, but there had been a little stammering before Steve had managed to make the arrangement clear. Nat seemed to know what he meant, though, by the way her eyes had lifted from the compass to stare at him. 

“Not to be that girl, Steve, but you could have told me this  _ before  _ I tried to set you up with half of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” she said dryly, and he chuckled awkwardly. 

“Yeah, well, after a while I thought maybe I  _ should  _ move on. And then Bucky appeared. And... I visited Peggy earlier. Peggy says she saw Kat in the 1950s. I checked the files you dumped online, and I found the report Peggy wrote. She saw Kat  _ eight years  _ after she disappeared. The report mentions that Kat didn’t look a day over 25. And I think-” 

“You think maybe she’s still alive. Well, Steve, I’ve got news for you on that front,” Natasha said amusedly, though she looked a little shell-shocked, and her voice carried just a tint of it. “That woman trained me in Russia in 2000. She was a temporary mentor. Brought in for a year to give us.. Something impossible to fight, to learn from. But Steve....” She didn’t sound amused anymore. “She was... very obviously brainwashed. She didn’t have a name and didn’t respond to anything other than what we were told to call her; Soldat. Soldier. When the year was over, they came for her, and she went quietly. To where, I don’t know. But I never saw her again.” 

Steve closed the compass after one last glance, slipping it back into his pocket, and he lifted a hand to rub his eyes. “That’s... They made her into a Winter Soldier, just like Bucky. Metal arm and all, if Peggy’s report is to be believed. Did she-” 

“Yeah, Steve, she did,” Nat supplied wearily, and Steve nodded, swallowing, and looked down. 

“I need to know more. She didn’t appear to deal with me when Bucky did, so either she’s on ice, or she’s somewhere else, or she’s... or she’s dead. I know I already called in my favor for Bucky, Nat, but...” he trailed off a little, and Nat shook her head slightly. 

“No, Steve. I owe you more than the one favor. And we’re.. Friends. So, favors be damned. Yeah, I’ll start looking. If it’s not hidden in S.H.I.E.L.D.s files, maybe I can pull some strings with a few old colleagues.” She reached out to touch his arm reassuringly for a moment, the earlier lapse of self control gone, calm and collected again. “We’ll find out what happened. And Steve...” 

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “What?” 

“If you know any more Winter Soldiers, now is the time to tell me,” she said, and they both broke into weak chuckles for a moment. 

“I think those are the only two,” he smirked, and she nodded, smiling. 

“Alright. Good. You have my cell. I’ll call you if I find out anything. Now go get some sleep and let me get my own, hm?” She replied, raising her eyebrows expectantly, and he smiled a little wider, backing up towards the door. 

“Alright. Thanks, Nat. Goodnight.” He opened the door, and she stepped forward to take up grabbing it as he stepped out into the hall. 

“Goodnight, Rogers,” she smiled, and as he walked off, gently shut the door behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter for tonight, guys! Thanks for reading! Love to hear comments!


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